what love is

Remember that chance meeting at the garden cafe?
Shrouded in fog and curiosity, you nursed your coffee slowly
just to get another eyeful, just to hear all the chapters unfold,
just to be sure.

Along came the cafe’s milk delivery; you recognized
the driver, who you once greeted twice a week
at another shop down the road, and he asked you,
out of curiosity: Is this the one that stole your heart?

You giggled and blushed and said no (not-so-convincingly),
certain that he continued on his route having
a good laugh over your guarded heartstrings
and how they’d so clearly been tethered.

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