​In her best dress, 

She waits –

Clock watching, 

As each quarter hour

Ticks by,  a reminder, 

She thinks – 

Of the fifteen times 

This has happened before. 

Her hope comes undone, 

Like the ringlets in her hair,

Falling from their designated place. 

As I watch – 

Her dark eyes melts, 

Forming a single tear, 

That runs down her face,

From her chin, 

And drops to the ground. 

As she wipes the residue, 

Of this solitary drop, 

A fine rain falls, 

And she thinks to herself, 

He’ll never know she cried. 

Kevin Brown Β© 04.09.2016

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