Saturday, 29 November 2008
Just a Smile
She doesn’t see herself
With the wet wind blowing
Burnt orange leaves
Around her heels.
She watches a barber-cut head in the crowd, chocolate smooth.
And then those blue eyes flash back
And find her with a tentative smile with dimples but no white teeth.
And then she sees smooth and brown again
Watching his head in the crowd bob away.
And this was enough
So she walks away too.