She walks like she's on a catwalk;
As if she knows that all the eyes
In the world look at her.

Heads turn, eyes widen, hearts accelerate;
Straight paths deviate under
Distracted feet. Her feet never waver:
Stride follows perfect stride, as though
She is marching to conquer the world.

She may as well be. One smile and
They would all surrender,
Buckling at their weakest points
While she revels in her superior strength.

As she turns the corner and walks away,
I find myself wondering what colour
Her eyes are, and where she was born,
And whether she ever looks
At the sky, and whether, given the chance,
I would ask these questions, or
Merely let my jaw hang loose.

09/04/2007

Posted on 09/04/2007
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