blue man, lined face
he sits there in his corner, puffing on that stick
absentmindedly sipping his coffee
weather-beaten, yet clad in what seems to be his sunday best
He stares out on the street. randomly sipping
sighing with every drag
he watches the sun go down
face devoid of expression yet his eyes betray his thoughts running for miles
ambling, he walks away, undecided where he might go
there is a destination, yes, but he seems unable to imagine where
like a babe on his first tentative step. he manages to reach a different place
and then he comes back.
staring, sipping, waiting,
knowing she won’t come.
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