In fifth Avenue

In the mornings I see Jane passing
and how she walks away,
in the street
and gets smaller and smaller in the distance

The lingering afternoon hours
slowly past
and the postman
draws the barking dogs,
before he rides leisurely
away with his bicycle.

When the sun gets low in the late afternoon
and I park behind the house,
I hear a gate opening
and she greets while she walks by.