Her green eyeshade is moisture of tears shed
long ago when she was young and in love,
now she sat in the foyer of her hotel like a fat
spider, unmoving but seeing and hearing all.
Dressed in black and in half-light diamonds
glittered her eyes and in the engagement
I gave her thirty years ago, she was beautiful
but spurned me for her father´s hotel.
Didn’t want to be here where love had died
and only pot plants thrived; I needed a room,
wrote my name in a ledger paid in advance,
went for a drink. The woman was silent.
Copyright © jan oskar hansen