Waiting Alone at the Bar

She was sitting alone at the bar,
her coat and bag hanging on the
empty chair to her left,
clearly waiting for someone.
I watched her from my table,
as she ordered a drink,
then after another ten minutes
ordered her food.
She removed a small
notebook from her purse and
started writing.
It was then that I overheard
her say to the bartender that
she took advantage of these
unexpected free moments
to write her daily
poems, this one was
to be about
waiting.