The Beauty of Your Gap-Toothed Smile

How I think about you, stretched halfway across Brooklyn
among million dollar apartments and flea markets
while I am nestled in a window at the bottom of a hill,
the gray sky wilting all my hope
of ever seeing you again,
begging for the sky to turn
the color of your flawless eyes
which connected to me so easily.
How I think of your gap-toothed smile
and wonder if I will ever see it again,
or hear you breathe my name
in the gentleness of the morning,
or your soft steps as you passed me
like sleet on drifts of darkened snow.
But, as endless as our winter,
is the hope my heart has held.
Will it ever be August again?