Three Strangers
1
As the patter
of our passing feet fades,
I wonder
how hair on a head so young
could be so mortified to grey.
2
A pity,
that the mystery she weaves
can be dispelled
by a common name
scrawled on her coffee cup.
3
She careens across the street,
louche-limbed,
lush-lidded.
In her eyes,
a glint shines still.
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Author's Note
Originally published on www.dogear.co.uk.
Other stories by Hazem Tagiuri
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I enjoyed (what I imagined the poet doing) sitting and observing, from my seat in a street cafe. Especially like the idea of mystery so easily dispelled by knowing a stranger's "common name
scrawled on her coffee cup."
Thanks, Carol.