From the Glass

A chilly evenin’ wind was blowin’
down the Texas street.
He hadn’t thought of what to say,
not knowin’ they would meet.

He touched his hat and touched her heart
with memories of “when”.
With sadness in her eyes she led
him down that path again...

her how and why, her need to grow
beyond their childhood vow,
to move along another path,
but still he wondered how…

just how it was that hurtin’ him
could come to mean she grew,
and why did growin’ sow the seeds
of findin’ someone new.

“I’m leavin’ this town anyway
so it don’t matter, girl—
I thought I’d give Vaquero life
in Mexico a whirl.”

He searched her face for any sign
and saw the bitter end,
the dampness in her eyes, he thought,
is only from the wind.

She offered up a hand to him,
he felt a little lost,
then smiled and tipped his hat as if
he understood the cost.

The cowboy walked away at last,
her prisoner no more,
reflecting ever smaller in a
distant plate-glass door.

Reflections held her tears until
she’d watched the moment pass,
he reached the corner, turned and stepped
forever from the glass.