Ever felt a tug when you met a stranger? A weird feeling of not wanting to talk, but a weirder feeling never wanting to move away?
My poem about 2 strangers who met and read on…
She- a wanderer, from moor to meadows,
ocean to land, and woods to willows,
-sat by the woods, thinking of those faces,
that have walked past her & left no traces.
A handful of faces, stayed forever in her heart.
Some came, left & came again for their part.
Some left to never look back,
others stayed & played the sly jack.
A fellow wanderer walked in & sat beside her.
Not a glimpse she took, at that stranger.
They sat there watching the day turn black.
He got up & walked into the dark.
He walked in again at the break of dawn.
She peeked at his mask that resembled a fawn.
She wondered what lay behind his mask,
the truth or a lie!? – It’s a tough task!
They sat silent all day, fearing each other’s masks.
At the brink of dusk he left for his tasks.
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