Exiting the glass-and-steel hotel <br />Where Mom had just regaled us with a brunch <br />As newlyweds, so we’d be toasted well, <br />I felt my <i>raincoat</i> whispering a hunch. <br /> <br />That stylish wrap between the world and me <br />Said <i>“Look out at this slate-grey, drizzly day.”</i> <br />So, fumbling for our borrowed Jaguar’s key, <br />I gazed out toward the park across the way. <br /> <br />Suddenly, for a moment then, time froze, <br />Soul bridging body, coat, car, buildings, rain <br />In absolute perfection and repose. <br />Then I walked on, and time began again. <br /> <br />I met you at the car, and you described <br />The selfsame vision <i>you</i> had just imbibed.<br /><br />Max Reif<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sunday-after-brunch-a-sonnet/
