Automat (An Homage to Edward Hopper)

A love affair in light and dark,

and I could even imagine a sound.

In my head, gazing upon a contrast so stark,

of a lady, canvas bound.

She’d removed only one of her gloves,

as she huddled under the light.

And the yellow domes hanging above,

were ghostly reflections in the night.

With a steaming cup, she sat quietly alone,

the shadows behind her, an abyss.

Her expression was set with an uncertain tone.

Was she waiting for her lover’s kiss?

Each opening sound of the luncheonette’s door,

arose a stir of anticipation.

But without a familiar smile, resolve replaced ardor,

and she was met with a sobering revelation.

‘He isn’t coming,’ her head told her heart,

‘you’re a fool to stay, so just leave.

There’s time enough for you to fall apart,

time abundant, perhaps, to grieve.’

A last sip of liquid warmth, before rising from the table,

buttoning her thin coat against the chill.

His parade of promises had included a mink or sable,

and even that big house on the hill.

But vows mean nothing, when not said before a witness,

at a church, a chapel, or a city hall.

When friends and family can attest a shared kiss,

and, an ‘I do’ can be heard by all.

And so, she turned and exited the automat,

unwittingly leaving her glove behind.

With newfound wisdom, and her pride intact, 
nevermore to live life so blind.