You know how sometimes you’ll look at a picture
Of a girl somewhere, taken years ago
And half a world away, seeming to show
Her happiness that instant in a flicker
Of mischief or delight, and you’ll gaze
At her a minute, moved almost to tears,
Jolted by the recognition: Here’s
One who might have cured my life’s malaise.
Her image haunts the page, not beautiful,
Exactly, or the sort that other men
Would care for, but, now you’ve seen it, you’ll
Remember her as if she’d kissed your cheek
Or walked the dawn-lit streets with you back then
And loved you for an hour or a week.
Copyright © Robert
Daseler, all rights reserved