Sunday, June 27, 2010

Perdido

In revolving doors
Of distant nights
I saw her twice.
Two moments
Or perhaps three,
Quite like no other,
Took my breath away,
As blood rushed
So did i
To steal another glance.


Alas!
Cruel fate.
She disappeared
In ancillary crowds.
I searched,
Ineffectual life led since
Those two moments
Or perhaps three.