Non-Erotic PoetryTen-Twenty from St. PancrasI hated the salty thought
of threatening tears,
the quaver in my "goodbye"
and how his hand
slipped from mine.
I walked,
then ran beside his window
until he sped from my life.
I know he settled back,
snapped his paper open
with a sigh.
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So poignant in so few words, the sign of a very good poet.
Perfectly
enigmatic. So few words, such a lot of story. Really terrific.
I remember this tidy poem from somewhere else, GP. I liked it then and now, particularly the conrasting ways the reader can interpret it. Is the man as distraught at leaving as the woman is? Why isn't he at the window as she walks, then runs at a slowly accelerating train? "Slip," "sped," and "snap" convey so many things.more...
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