Beneath the soft café’s light,
They sit together, night in sight,
He speaks of family, siblings’ cheer,
In hopes to draw her spirit near.
Marilyn listens, eyes downcast,
Her mind a shadowed, distant past,
He sees the darkness in her stare,
A pain that lingers, always there.
Curly hair frames her face so fair,
Yet sorrow seems to grip her air,
When he inquires of her kin,
Her heart retreats, emotions thin.
Her eyes grow dark, a storm inside,
Where painful memories reside,
He quickly shifts, no more to press,
To save her from that deep distress.
"I want to be your friend," he says,
"Or more, if that can come someday,
But we can take it slow, you see,
No rush, just let it be."
Marilyn nods, her gaze so still,
Her voice a whisper, lacking thrill,
"Thank you," she murmurs, polite and sweet,
A fragile girl, with fears replete.
He watches her, with gentle care,
Aware of all she doesn't share,
In her silence, he feels the weight,
Of secrets that might devastate.
Yet hope persists within his heart,
To see her brokenness depart,
To witness laughter in her eyes,
To banish all her darkened skies.
As they sit beneath the evening hue,
He dreams of skies turned bright and blue,
For Marilyn, with sorrow’s trace,
To find once more her rightful place.
He’ll wait, he’ll watch, he’ll gently guide,
To be the friend she keeps inside,
With patience, love, and steady grace,
To help her find her smiling face
