The Girl On the Bench
The face haunts me still. I feel
I should head back
past the wearing county miles
and confining rain,
just say it - one heart-felt interjection
that head did swallow,
opting more the bitter peristalsis
than game tenably Out-of-Range.
And why was not conformed,
as my trembling heart looked, and looked,
marveling if it was deserved
by a man of such despotic head?-
all soon, guilt turned to an egotism
and that case was duly held.
What a life I did lose,
Mind robbed by of a single word!
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