A blind man’s date

Blind Man

I sit quietly
In patient tryst,
As I inhale joyous insentient sticks
Burning round circles
of mystic charm,
And awaiting
that faint sweet aromatic aroma
Of a quaint French red wine
God sent,
To quench my stifling thirst
(And here I figit and shuffle
In my firm seat of disbelief
and impatience )
And the warm candle light
placed delicately beside
my “round corner” table,
Glows quietly, romantically,
Upon the soft laced embroidered cloth
Draped in some ethereal soothing color,
(or white for all it matters)
Forming an enigmatic round halo
in a clear glistening sheen…
And within it
I see, lucidly,
a frail outline
Of perhaps a lovely smile….
I hear some faint music too
from far across the street
Of a mellifluous sonorous refrain
Perhaps an aching flute,
(In search of a lonely listener
serving time )
And all of this
seem to match
With the sound of fleeting feet
running nimbly,
( towards me ? )
or upon the far cobblestones
Of some carefree street urchins,
In a heavenly duet
Of togetherness …

And I keep waiting,
for the soft
touch of her arrival.

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