The Stranger
Something in the way you looked at me.
Something perhaps I could see.
Your eyes lower, you flash a smile my way.
You make my chest tight, but I want you to stay.
So many words I hear you say.
But not once did your lips stray.
Turn your head, let me see.
What is it, your shy to talk to me.
Still I feel you longing, wanting to know.
But when I look up, you just get up and quietly go.
Written 2003
Copyright © Stephen Mayne | Year Posted 2020
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