Love’s Expectations
by Gail Denham

Life doesn’t sit on hold while I pine over that
dream person, the one who smiled and asked
me to dance last night. I felt it should …

… stop the world at that moment when flowers
blossomed in snow, clouds echoed tunes such as
“Only You”, the air was colored soft lavender.

Next day, the whole universe was scented fresh
as mother’s just-off the clothesline tea-towels.
A cat danced on the white fence. He would
arrive soon. I lifted my face to the sun. He
promised, I trusted. Maybe something came up?

I waited outside or by the door all day, gathered
frost-edged flowers, held them like a bridal bouquet.
Waited with hope, possessed, for my Sir Galahad
to arrive, carry me off in his “souped-up” Chevy.

He told me he’d be there at two. Suddenly rain began.
It melted snow at my feet. A cloud perched over-head
in gray ridicule. Through my fogged glasses, I could
see no further than the leafless lilac bush by the gate.

Life not only did not bring my dream man.
It plastered my best pink blouse to my bosom, which
no longer heaved with desire and hope. Reality rained
down, straightened my hair and my heart.


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