At the corner in the city sat a corner store,

covered in plastic to keep out the evening pour.

I held the umbrella to cover my head,

She pouted to indicate her lips dripping red.

A man clipped tulips into a plastic pot,

I tread past but she bent and stopped.

I reached past my coat and patted at my pocket,

“I don’t have enough,” I yelled over the racket.

She sniffed and tweaked each petal with care,

dismissing my call with an uneven stare.

I looked through the fruits and Chinese buffet,

“I bought you flowers just the other day.”

“You didn’t,” she said through the rain-soaked plastic,

“Oh, that’s right,” I said, “I must be spastic.”

She lifted a bouquet from its tight quarters,

and handed them to me to act as her porter.

The thorns ripped through my leather-gloved hand,

and I bit my cheek and swallowed skin’s strand.

She led me to the cashier waiting out front,

I glanced at the helplessness of her staged stunt.

For what to do with a woman’s demands,

but reach into my heart and fulfill her plans.

I paid for the flowers and bought her sweets,

I learned long ago that she’s a sucker for treats.

I presented her gifts with a flourishing wave,

and she clapped and smiled at my great save.

We met in passing just the other day,

and we chatted it up and I made her stay.

We harked back to our moments of joy,

before sadness broke us like two big toys.

“The gifts I remember you taught me to buy,

without which no girl would have grown nigh.”

We laughed remembering what led me astray,

and remembered the kindness of that wet day.

I told her how happy I am with my girl,

she regretted that we didn’t give it a whirl.

I smiled and said, “Think of that night.”

“It would be years before I got over that sight.”

I waved goodbye to return to my girl Sue,

“It was because of you I finally learned to woo.”

I think back toward the lessons she taught

and finally realize that nothing was for naught.

***

Yeah, tiredness found me. I might rework it when I find a chance. It's not up to my usual standards of bad poems.