A Forlorn Thought

If I were to find her sometime

In some busy street-

A river flooded with busy souls,

Would she smile?

Why?

A bloom of surprise; pleasant?

Then, like a storm seeping it off

And a mask of aloofness..

The daily grind has made her wary.

Wary; in a beautiful way

Whether she smiles at me or not

Does not matter any more.

There were days that smile

Lighted my days and nights

It would not hurt me -

Her not recognizing me

No. not any more.

The sea turns muddy

When rivers flood.

It never overflows

And I don’t react.

I, contain.