She was the poem
This poem was long awaiting to be written. Its based on someone I saw during my morning walks, one and a half years’ ago. I used to see her everyday for a year. She reminded me of a poem I’d long read and loved.
Have any of you been reminded of a poem when you saw someone?
I saw her on my morning walk
Strolling ahead of me
in a lime green dress
Spaghetti straps, straight- cut
Her skin – cream veneer
If not for the summer’s breeze that blew-
brushing past me hurriedly
Frisking a tendril that meandered
down the curve of her neck
and idly lay on her back,
I’d think it was Spring
Honey brown was it or auburn-
the blazing sun played games
on her tresses and my still, drowsy eyes
Unfazed she rambled
Oblivious of joggers passing by
And penetrating eyes
Of the squatters
On the cemented sidewalk
If not for the sounds of running feet
The whizzing of cars on the street
and the swooshing of the city cleaner’s broom
Against the stone pavement
I’d think we were in the meadows
As she glided leisurely, nudging the pram
Was it hers or another’s?
Her delicate frame played games
on her persona and my still sleepy head
‘She walks in beauty,’ mused I
Lord Byron coming to my mind
Have attached the poem by Lord Byron below for those who haven’t read it before and for those who have and love it for it’s one of those poems that lives on forever.
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