First He
A Connoisseur's Vision

 

   

They have no shades.
First he goes to the dresser
and accumulates papers,
the nature of which
I cannot tell at this distance,
and quickly scans them,
and files them in an order
within his briefcase.
 

His day will unfold as planned.

Then she enters the room
and opens the drawer
selecting clothes for her day.
The distance is too great.
I cannot distinguish which clothes,
even their color,
as she carries them off
into another room, more private,
probably to bathe and dress.

He continues to ready for work.

I am on vacation
and have time to witness
simplicity without concern,
time to marvel at ritual,
theirs not mine which was left behind
now that I’m on break
in a foreign land, alone.

I am not a voyeur
merely a connoisseur
taking time to savor life,
waiting for love to arrive.