Poetic Encounter

"You handled that very well."
Someone said upon her leave.
Puzzled me - Why? Who is she?
Then a second my smile fell.
Odd. How life's stories weave!
Surely not that she saw me?
Or take notice my silent spell.
Weakly I, her going do relieve,
Circles only my friendly three.

But silly mind found a fixation.
So, across the bar, I had faced her.
Petite French and mild Goth overlay;
Heavy rims to shout sophistication;
Eyes to hidden depth do they infer.
Her bubbling words in my ears replay.
That Voice does promise temptation.
An allure bringing his and my life stir.
Yet boredom quickly took her away.

Beside such brilliance, exuberance
That I feel gripping shadow's chill.
For she brings passion and thunder,
And I, pale smiles in remembrance,
Am but a silly sprite that remains still.
An open book neglect to asunder,
But holds no scars in its appearance.
He paid his eager price for her thrill,
and the lonely world for I to wonder.

Written May 2004.