YESTERDAY I BUMPED INTO HIM.

Yesterday I bumped into him.
He wore the yellow T-shirt, the one I bought him on his birthday.
He still had that old watch I found tasteless, the one his dad gave him.
He still had that cute habit, of leaking his lips as he spoke.
He reminded me of us.



We spoke for hours, standing in the hot sun next to a dusty road.
We spoke about everything, the weather, politics, everything but about us.
I asked him about his best friend Ben, he told me he got a kid with Jane,” they got married”.
That should have been us.


His eyes read out something, when I said “see you around’’.
His Hand had a bit of a tremble, when I lent him mine to bid goodbye.
He held my hand a bit too longer; he hugged me a bit too tighter.
He whispered into my ear, he said he thought about us a lot.



He wished he had gathered the guts, to pick up the phone and call.
He explained then he was still a boy, the reason he let a good woman go without a fight.
He insisted now he was a man, man enough to handle a real woman in his life.
He asked if I felt if anything, a bit of what I felt then.
He got me thinking about us.



He pulls out my chairs; he even opens the doors.
He never forgets my birthday; he surprised me on our anniversary.
He never used to cook then; he does it so well now.
He loves watching his game, with the boys in the house as I cook.
Today I gave him the news, in eight months he would be a dad.
He couldn’t hold back the tears, as he thanked God in joy.
He smiled so wide and said, “look at us”