Pursuit
Lanky, long, angular, lean
face neither kind nor mean
Breezy walk along the avenue
twirling something yet unseen
Abrupt turn into a narrow door
glancing backward just before
Did he see me? Should she run?
perhaps he has a knife or gun!
Chancing it, she waits outside the store
he's in there half-an-hour or more
Her palms and knees bathed in sweat
She's about to concede her foolish bet
Then out he comes, joyously
a dozen roses, just for me
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