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The Passer-by

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Below is the poem entitled The Passer-by which was written by poet Robert Uy. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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The Passer-by

An unfinished afternoon lies strewn across my desk
   Along with an uneaten breakfast neglected by my left
While I tap-tap-tap my fingers absent-mindedly on the table-top
   As I impatiently await for the time
When along comes my long-awaited passer-by
      Now here she comes! Here she comes—
   Like an Eastern sun rising through the darkened dawn; 
She with gaiety a-light on those Oriental eyes
   That further gleams with her every greeting and a smile.
Yet I—I could not meet those eyes
   For fear that upon that good morning greeting 
 I would simply die and...

How many seconds passed, or moments did?  
   I finally to myself did ask, 
For when I came to from that spell though fleeting
   She was in front of me at last.
Her smile now mine, my gaze was hers
      And my wandering mind left me to wonder
How close she was that I could reach for her hand
   And it would be as much
Silkenly as I imagined her skin would be at my touch; 
      Or how exhilarated—enraptured—would I be should her heart
   Be confined within the circle of my arms.
The world would be a place less lonely—alas, 
   If only reveries could last!   

Now did I greet in kind, nor even spoke at all? 
   I finally to myself did ask
For when I came to from that spell though fleeting
   She'd been a couple paces past
And there I was left standing, a fool with nothing
      But the trailings of her scent
   That flowery fragrance she adorns herself with
For a beloved must be meant.
   Thus with such small tokens as smiles and scents
      I keep myself contented
   And feed my endless reveries
Imagining a time and place where her love
   May at my mercy be
Though I wake from those daydreams empty 
       Disheartened by the dawning in my mind that desire
   Is a thirst that in my throat dies
Each and every time.

Each and every time.

Yet by this time tomorrow I would still be by my desk
   And an unfinished afternoon still strewn across as well
Never reckoning if ‘tis worth my while waiting, 
      Though I would still be waiting for the time
   When along comes my long awaited passer-by.

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