His small round eyes
Concealed the depth
Of a life yet to be
Lived, neat white
Beard only slightly
Shadowing thin lips
Allowing intimate
Notes to outpour,
A murmured song.
He sang me the Sun
On a misty day
Whispering airs
Of serene, promising
In confidence
In a bar,
The older I would get
The better I would become.
I believed.
[Featured photo: Sorrento, Italy]