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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Who have known us as a youth,
Almost as though, I do suppose
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And surround your garden wall like crows in mourning,
Engaging in a flapping of their wings in warning,