Love
I have been walking past you for months now.

Each morning after I get my $3 coffee you are there, always:
Your eyes wide and blue from the sky’s reflection and then
there is me, wondering if I’ll catch mine in them too.

You are taller and much older than me. I bet you've seen
some things, too - the way your eyes sometimes stay open

all night. There's this timelessness in the way you hold
yourself; as though the person who arched those letters into
your name foresaw the kind of weight they would carry.

Lewis
And here you were thinking this was a poem about me falling
in love with a man named Lewis and not some building in Prahran.

That’s probably just because it’s wedding season and everyone
is always hungry for a story about how you went from being
just you to becoming you, and love, and someone else.