You

It's that little cup of coffee,
the one that you made,
that smile I get whenever you're there,
the little laugh I got from my silly jibe,
necessities for you but it made my day.

You're wearing black today,
and your hair tied back in that pony tale,
I hate myself for thinking it but you look like a dream,
and this place and this city, my second home,
the sunshine only exaggerating this thing in me.

I've not seen you today,
but you're on my mind, despite’n'still,
and in the best Danish name game yours came in first,
suddenly I might add, surprising even me,
and I recognise my compass poles are reversed.

Sat again with my coffee in hand,
in your absence reconciled,
then I hear your voice,
but no way for me to disguise the quiver,
and the flutter since you walked in that door.