DATE WITH ANOTHER POET

The sun is shooting reds, oranges, and greens across the water

The scent of lavender merges with the savory sea air

I lean on the railing and inhale deeply

So nervous that my teeth are chattering

Then I hear my name

I go to the stairs to find you standing on the sand

Poetry books in hand

You are a vision in white linen shorts and an aqua sweatshirt

Your hair, just beginning to curl under, twists in the wind

“Hi,” I breathe not knowing if the word is lost in the wind

“Hey,” you say, your eyes the size of the sun

I attempt to say something clever and sophisticated

But as I descend the stairs

All I can do is stare

Robert A. Cozzi

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