Horse

 My hair was a crown and
 I was a horse
 as you walked past the house
 and I galloped across the road.
 Hooves against glass
 I peered through the café window, only
 to see us eating eggs 
 in the dark;
 our smiles glowing over coffee,
 butter that I thought was cheese and 
 across the years
 that have passed.
 It was silent inside and
 I snorted. 
The chairs were stacked high
 on the tables that were islands
 and menus fluttered like leaves
 to the freshly washed floor.
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