You were there watching me from your secret lair, Pizza Girl.
A cove of pizza crust and sauce.
I stood there passing food items over a scanner, a gawky uncoordinated youth.
If only I had looked up, catching a glimpse of the Pizza Girl staring at me.
But no, insistent customers continues shoving frozen peas and cabbage under my nose.
Your secret vigil was safely held bound behind the to-go counter.
Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.