The Urge of the Stalker
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He stopped in his tracks.
He could not believe his weary eyes.
There she was, young, lithe and beautiful.
He felt something stirring in the pit of his stomach.
He had to know who she was. It was imperative.
It suddenly became an urge,
And it would drive him mad
If he could not know more about her.
Madness! Perhaps, but the urge to follow her
Pushed him to the limits. He would never rest.
He saw her enter Wal-Mart.
He cursed himself.
His dress was nondescript, threadbare.
They would not allow him in the store.
Trust to luck, he thought.
At last she came out and he followed her,
But she seemed to go in circles,
Now stopping at some shop,
Now at some hairdresser’s shop.
Finally he saw her enter a police station.
Incredible for within a few minutes
He found himself arrested and accused of stalking.
He looked at her and saw her angry red face.
She had seen him following her.
The old man smiled and asked the officer
If he could open his wallet.
They checked him for any weapons and found none.
He opened his wallet and took out a picture,
An exact replica of his wife.
She was dead now and they took away his only daughter.
Perhaps she was his daughter.
He had to find out. The urge was too great.
He assured her he had no bad intentions.
And it turned out he was right.
She was her daughter.
,
10 November 2021
Subject URGE no. 4
''U'' Contest, New Poems Only Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Copyright © Buhagiar Victor | Year Posted 2021
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