Was That She

Poem By Robert E. MacIntosh

I still think I see her.
She appears for fleeting moments in a crowd.
Smiling and happy, then... gone.
There was no time to get close.
To the owner of, the impostor of that face,
To shout out loud, "come home, my darling".
The noise of the crowd would smother my words,
And then my hopes,
And then my heart, once more,
As they did again today,
When she passed by the exit door...
And quickly slipped away!

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Old Friends

There are no friends like those
Who have known us as a youth,
Almost as though, I do suppose
Only they can know the truth

The Pity Birds

At a time when dark and dismal events
Gather around your backyard fence,
And surround your garden wall like crows in mourning,
Engaging in a flapping of their wings in warning,