A young man in a greasy city café, <br />Wiping down tables and putting up chairs, <br />Lost as his thoughts begin to stray, <br />Explaining the smile he softly wears. <br /> <br />They drift to a night on top of a hill, <br />With lights all around for miles to see, <br />Sitting close to her with time to kill, <br />With no where else he would rather be. <br /> <br />The scent of rum and sweat in the cold air, <br />Staring into eyes mirror bright with love, <br />He twines his hands in silky smooth hair, <br />Swearing he sees her ascend like a dove. <br /> <br />The first touch so light and hesitant, <br />Fingertips lightly caressing a face, <br />Both of them old yet very innocent, <br />Loneliness now laid forever to waste. <br /> <br />Hearts opening wide to lover’s passion, <br />Soft words melting a hardened heart, <br />Gentle caresses lifting in the same fashion, <br />He knows she was meant to play this part. <br /> <br />Smiling gently at this fond thought, <br />He finishes with the last table and chair, <br />Knowing these feelings cannot be bought, <br />He locks up the shop with eager care. <br /> <br />The lights turned off and the tables up, <br />He goes home to her undying love and care, <br />And that beautiful face he longs to cup, <br />His heart’s love and his soul’s true pair.<br /><br />Shiloh Thompson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-worker-s-thoughts/
