On the corner
‘round my apartment
Stands her bakery with
the powder blue French doors
and the rusty old signage
That reads ‘Pandora’
She’s got a thing for antiquity
Opening every morning at 8AM
identified by the aroma of freshly baked bread
says it’s open for business.
The smell reaches my first floor window
I can’t take my coffee in peace
I think about her and my
appetite thinks about bagels
Surely she must be a witch
A most efficient one, at her craft
For even when she walks home
the scent of sweet vanilla
lingers in the air, enticing
But her smile is genuine
Ignorant of the effect on me
Every morning I walk by
thinking I’d go in, do small talk,
find the courage to ask her out, but I never.
I collide with someone as I’m thinking this.
I look up to the scent of sweet vanilla and
‘Hello, I’m sorry, didn’t see you there!’
in front of those Powder blue French doors.