You walked across that street in summertime,
the sunlight glinting on your golden hair.
I stood transfixed, the shift in paradigm
a sucker punch. Then, trying not to stare
– my thoughts, all scattered, falling into place –
I watched you walk across that sunlit street
and almost didn’t want to see your face.
I knew it would be strong; I knew it would be sweet.
And then you turned and flashed a cheerful smile
as if I’d made an innocent request.
I took my chance, and we chatted for a while,
until you had to go. Ann, who’d have guessed
we’d meet again before the week had gone,
still be together twenty-five years on?