[29] – Windows
The girl and boy were now
Strolling down the rare and empty streets of
New York City.
“Tell me why I agreed to go
‘Window shopping’
With you again?”
The girl held the boy’s hand in hers
Dragging him along.
“Because admittedly, it’s fun
And it’s a distraction.”
She emphasized on her last word
Which made the boy fall silent.
He knew she had this idea
Where she would somehow manage to
F i x H i m.
They spent the day looking at unusual things
As well as vintage antiques.
The stores they looked through were all
Old and dusty
But it was in the oldest shops did they find
The most intriguing treasures.
They found rusty keys that opened unfound locks
They wished upon colorful ‘lucky’ stones
They sneezed as dust blew off the covers of
Old sketchbooks and photo albums and scrapbooks.
Nostalgic movie posters sold
For 99¢ each
As well as the soda pop
That came in glass bottles.
Cheap childhood sweets
Filled the brim of candy jars.
They listened to cassette tapes
And danced to vinyl records.
“I love this song!” The girl
Had now pulled the boy into a slow dance
Right in the middle of the shop.
“Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars.”
The boy leaned close to the girl.
So close he could smell her
Coffee shop sunshine fragrance.
He looked into her eyes
And she did the same.
Then the girl broke her stare
And whispered,
“Eyes are the windows
To the soul.”
YOU ARE READING
Pluviophile
PuisiIt was a rainy day, in New York no less. One held a cup of coffee, wishing for the rain to stop. One held a hand full of old books, savouring the moment. short story #98 poetry #51
