Blue dress high heels and pursed lips

Stand underneath the tree

Watching waiting ever vigilant waiting for him to arrive

She straightens her hair for the fifteenth time

Checks her phone

The hours’ worth of make up on her face

That begins to melt

The promise she wants to keep

That simply can’t wait

She begins to question was this a good idea

But Wednesday was their day

And she is off the meter

Surely, he can’t have forgotten

This is their spot their tree

The dappled shade of dancing leaves plays on the dry

And dusty puddles

As she feels herself sink.

It’s only been a couple of months since he last came to visit

She decides to move away

Telling herself there is no tomorrow

There is no Mr right

There is no perfect life

Across the road he runs

Sweating breathing heavy

Apologising telling her he nearly didn’t come

But he had to tell her she is perfect

And brushes his hand along the puckered scar

On her cheek

She doesn’t flinch

Smiling she says your bloody daft

I knew there was reason why I liked you

Come on let’s have a cuppa