phases

He wears a large cream belt,
Nothing outstanding, everything outstanding
A white shirt, all about genuine superiority
A jerky hand straightening his red jersey
Screaming misplaced authority
Black shoes, a whitish grey tie and torn black socks
Something about orderly disorderliness

Scribbling something in a piece of paper lying on the ground
He finishes and hands it to the petite girl
Arms way from him, and with a familiar smile about his face
With delicacy, she picks it as though a hundred dollar bill
A blush barely noticeable, embarrassing its audience
I the witness to this contract of intimacy

On his confidence I wasn’t in doubt
On his love, I was in doubt,
On her love, I wasn’t in doubt
In the purity of it all, I was embarrassed to witness
Yet that’s the order of love and loss of innocence
In the quest for companionship
In fulfillment of our fated phases.