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Wrote this last night, sitting at the bar, when inspiration struck.
People stop, pausing their evening walks, to peer through the rain-slick window panes. Umbrellas and rain bonnets, black as night and drenched as the pavement, glitter like prisms in the street light. Through the lazy blue-grey haze of cigarette smoke, emerald eyes peer out from under an old fashioned fedora across the piano. Slight stuble gracing a square jaw, narrow nose, and eyebrows as sharp as steel. He is smiling at me, grinning through the jazz that fills the room. But this scene is a thousand miles away. This night, like any other, shall fade into last night and tomorrow’s.
People stop, pausing their evening walks, to peer through the rain-slick window panes. Umbrellas and rain bonnets, black as night and drenched as the pavement, glitter like prisms in the street light. Through the lazy blue-grey haze of cigarette smoke, emerald eyes peer out from under an old fashioned fedora across the piano. Slight stuble gracing a square jaw, narrow nose, and eyebrows as sharp as steel. He is smiling at me, grinning through the jazz that fills the room. But this scene is a thousand miles away. This night, like any other, shall fade into last night and tomorrow’s.
