We met at the train station
We were both heading to the airport;
You were off to Greece, and I to London
Work things, I presume
We exchanged names…and smiles
You were a picture of perfection.
Clad in your turquoise jacket,
Crisp white shirt and black denims
I was taken by your beauty,
Curvy in all the right places
Work benefits, the way you dressed.
We talked at the terminals,
by the lounge as we waited for the gates to open.
We talked, drank and ate together on the plane
I forgot to mention: we flew Business Class
and I was the perfect gentleman
Work things, I guess.
Your hand brushed against mine at luggage claims
Those romantics call it electricity
Whatever; it sent shock waves through us.
Our eyes met; we smiled knowingly to each other
We booked into a hotel for the night
Work things? Not anymore.
We threw caution to the wind
You were amazing; my vision was blurred,
I guess, my senses too
Next morning you were gone…
…connecting flight to Greece
Work things; back to reality.
I left for London that afternoon,
I stepped onto the plane,
put my bag into the overhead locker
I remembered we hadn't used protection
[memory: our caution was in the wind]
Life and death things? I didn't think so.
Fast forward…Four Years Later,
My wife is dead
It's only now,
Lying in the hospital bed
Breathing and feeding through tubes
that I realise you had AIDs
…but you looked too good…
I didn't even have your number or know your last name
Things are never what they seem.
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