Wednesday, May 27, 2015


Could our footprints
Be there in the concrete -
Smudges on the asphalt
Scuffed by our shoes,
Shuffled short stops and starts
Where we would greet,
Marks of steps we took
While we could not lose?

I watched from my window
As you walked past,
Your face forward,
Tresses black and flowing;
You were hurried but happy,
Travelling fast,
And I wished
To be
Where you were going.

But there were times
I saw you waiting there,
Balanced on your high heels
Until he came,
A man
To whom I could never compare,
I had no claim,
I was too meek, too tame.

Thugs changed the name
Of that street long ago;
Yet it's the same -
Vanished phantoms still glow.

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