Well, I saw him again today,
A captive glimpse, I should say,
But couldn't mistake the rolling stride
The surety implied that he's ready to ride.
There he was, deliv'ring his goods,
Though it be some different foods.
Breezy and quick as a flick of the wrist,
His gliding step, his waist at that twist,
Assessing opportunity with no overt pass.
Carefully girded, his weapon, the cutlass
Which he'll belaying about, no doubt,
With oft-practiced thrust, the lout,
For he still has that roving eye
The ability to shanghai a sigh--
I held my breath as he went by
Never knowing, I hope, I once thought I'd die
When his fancy turned to another's whim--
And here....I thought I'd forgotten him.
Comment: Another great poem. Mother and I just read it. Mom said, "I love Mary's poems. She has such a lilting way of writing."
Real encounter? Or dream encounter?
M
