Tea for Two

I see you.
I’ve always seen you.
I’ve seen you walking past a woman
with red hair; often you have smiled
as you passed but never raised your eyes.
I’ve seen you sit alone
at dinner, or for tea,
my solitary darling, nibbling
your biscotti and careful of crumbs.
I see you now.
You scratch your nose. You tap
your foot to the rhythm of some internal song
(something in ¾ time, I think).
You do not know you do these things,
but, of course, you do.
I imagine walking through the door, or wall,
which separates you and me.
What conversations we would have!
I think we’d be content to gaze at one another
in congenial silence. You might take
my hand. You wouldn’t be You anymore,
nor I, I.