Image © C.B. Walshak 2019
| by C.B. Walshak | May 24, 2019 |
he had skin so tan it was almost brown
and a ponytail: grey and blond
he was sitting on a bench
while his dog licked its paws
in the restful shade below
his feet had been dirty for years
but his eyes were clear
if you could go dancing with his eyes
but not his feet, you would, anyone would
you’d take those eyes out to dinner
they were an icy, sharp, unfair blue
he opened them wide with each wild laugh
and closed them softly when he whistled
I wondered if he was homeless
as I ordered a café con leche at the window
at a nearby shop
bright painted buoys dangled on thick ropes
and smacked together when the breeze came
his feet had been dirty for years
but his eyes were brilliant
wild
he didn’t notice me at all
C.B. Walshak is a poet and writer, whose work is largely influenced by her hometown of Richmond, VA. While attending the College of William & Mary, she was awarded prizes in poetry and screenwriting, as well as Departmental Honors for her academic writings on F. Scott Fitzgerald. She is the Founder & Chief Editor of Old Dominion Bride, a Virginia-focused wedding blog, and is currently working on her debut novel. She lives with her husband in Baltimore, MD.