#87 potpourri

Cooked a dinner from a cookbook,
it said "Dinner For Two",
but only got one on the table,
and that was me,
but I didn't bother to enjoy it alone,
I like the freedom of eating a lot,
didn't bother with the lit up candles,
because I like imagining things,
projecting like you were there.

What evening o'clock you gonna knock?
I'll leave the front door knob unlocked,
what topic you prefer we gonna talk?
'Cause I fancy catching up.
As I sitting by the window,
holding a bowl of potpourri,
the scenery of lush sidewalks,
bathed in golden morning sunshine,
reminds me of jogging with you.

I cooked dinner for two,
while waiting for you,
and I was planning perfect date,
which park you'd love to go for?
to have a deep conversation, midnight walk,
sitting on a bench, under the glowing yellow,
of an old lamp post.

Such a perfect place to get down on one knee,
such a perfect moment to show that ring box,
but in the knowledge of you were just imaginary,
my eyes started to get soaked.

I'll keep waking up to the scent of potpourri,
the one that you gave to me,
and spend the morning enjoying the scenery,

believing that some evening you gonna knock.