Beresford Ave in May by Marla Mulloy

February Prompt: love stories, love poems

​I heard you
as you turned from the subway station to the small park
and onto our street,
            singing.
Or maybe my heart heard you,
the connection we had to each other pinged just a little,
so that the part of me tuned in to you caught my attention
for a small second
as you entered our street,
turned right,
and began your last block home,
for I don’t think you would dare to sing so loudly
in the middle of the afternoon
that I could hear you at the end of the block,

            although sometimes you couldn’t help it,
            steeped in your own thoughts
            barely aware of your surroundings,
            the notes slipping out of your throat like a blessing or warm chocolate.

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