First Encounter

I enter into the windy chamber

I sit, dutifully and take my place.

Waiting, watching, discreetly.

You enter my view.

I try not to stare.

To glance your way. . .

          But I do.

I smile and look away hurriedly,

afraid to meet your glance

You parade before me,

my heart begins to panic.

I try not to look interested,

to concentrate on my scrolls.

to seem cool and aloof outside.

But my true feelings burn —

like white heat inside.

 

30 January 1992

For MES

 

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