The Worker's Thoughts Poem by Shiloh Thompson

A young man in a greasy city café,
Wiping down tables and putting up chairs,
Lost as his thoughts begin to stray,
Explaining the smile he softly wears.

They drift to a night on top of a hill,
With lights all around for miles to see,
Sitting close to her with time to kill,
With no where else he would rather be.

The scent of rum and sweat in the cold air,
Staring into eyes mirror bright with love,
He twines his hands in silky smooth hair,
Swearing he sees her ascend like a dove.

The first touch so light and hesitant,
Fingertips lightly caressing a face,
Both of them old yet very innocent,
Loneliness now laid forever to waste.

Hearts opening wide to lover’s passion,
Soft words melting a hardened heart,
Gentle caresses lifting in the same fashion,
He knows she was meant to play this part.

Smiling gently at this fond thought,
He finishes with the last table and chair,
Knowing these feelings cannot be bought,
He locks up the shop with eager care.

The lights turned off and the tables up,
He goes home to her undying love and care,
And that beautiful face he longs to cup,
His heart’s love and his soul’s true pair.