CB (May 3,1962 / United States)

The Man I Could Have Married

Had he and I but met
Before a wife he had acquired
We would have danced, and dined
And talked for many an hour.

But he stood with his wife's
Back by his side
We stared at each other
And then called each a liar.

She looked at me, and then at him.
Touched him once, a mark
I suppose to remind me that
I remained just a foe.

I smiled to show I minded not at all.
That she was married to the man
That should have been mine all along.
Tis only that I met him late, too late, I suppose.

Another time, another place, or so
The poets go, he would have looked at me
That way, as he held my hand. He would have
Spoke those words, and never let me go.

by Charlotte Ballard

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