On that unsuspecting night of
Destiny, did thus lay its hands
Upon me, in an understated tone
Delivering me a shining light,
An orchestrated happenstance
Beauteous in style and grace
Her name to me yet unknown.
Striking in her stylish dress, a
Ghost wading through the sea of bodies
Transcending from our mortal plane
To one not to us yet shown.
Eyes turn, watching her invisible form,
Hair of the hearth, shape of society,
Grace of our modern mannequins,
Eyes of robins not yet flown.
Though at that time, through thought no longer there
I would not notice her being, with out body,
Now in recollection, I realize
That even then I was alone.
Now wishing to be truly in her presence,
Body, mind, heart, and mostly soul,
Wanting to have seen past the steely ghost,
To see the girl I would want to have known.
This was the first poem I wrote about that night at the Blue Note where I saw this perfect girl. Man I swear she was like no one I had seen before. Irish features, reddish blonde hair, blue eyes, a great smile, nice looking body. But again, I had not the guts to go and say anything to her. Even though we did lock eyes a couple of times. Stupid me. Ah thus the curse of the artist (couch cough gag), always watching, never doing. My bad.