The only time I ever spoke to her,
She misheard me as I tripped
Ineloquently and inevitably over
My inconsequential words.

Soon afterwards, the shop closed;
For years it remained as it was then,
Awful posters, strange shelving system
And all, a monument to my
Inability to make myself understood.

When I saw her at her evening job,
She always looked as despondent
And displaced as I felt.
I wanted to take her hand and
Run out of the door with her into
The cool, vivacious night air and
Watch the stars reignite her smile.

In reality, I merely sat and waited
For friends and avoided going to
The bar; I was too willing to
Allow the Saturday night crowds
To separate us.

Now there are many years between
Me and her subtle, unassuming beauty,
But still, somehow, I remember
All that I did not do
To brighten those dark nights.

10/25/2012

Posted on 11/12/2012
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince