Esperanza

We called her "Esperanza"
In Spanish class
all those years ago.
Bright-eyed Esperanza
whose face seemed locked
in perpetual smile.
Smiling Esperanza who talked
of nothing but happiness and hope.

Now the face she wears
Belies her age: too much weariness,
Too much grief.
She's far too young to be framed in bar-haze,
Cutting through smoke
and unfamiliar faces
to bring people their cocktails
and a perfunctory smile.

She passes me a third time,
It's clear she does not recognize me,
Gregorio, as I was called.
Gregorio who watched her so lovingly
All those years ago.

Perhaps she does see something
in my eyes as our gazes meet,
But she cannot delve into the past,
back into times when her blue eyes
Scintillated with happiness and hope.
Alas, dear Esperanza,
how quickly the young heart grows old.