You always see her in a crowd
blending like a graveled stone
at farthest table the room’s allowed
where she sits and gazes….all alone
in stares transfixed by muted thoughts
that have strained her every will
and she appears as frozen…. in a trance-like state
her fragile look….is still.
She’s not with friends nor is she without,
but she ‘appears’ to us as one
abandoned, lost, leaving much in doubt,
and you wonder the thoughts, she’s spun.
But appearance is often a misleading clue
and by the face, it’s hard to tell
if she’s deep in thought about something good
or about something gone to……well….
You see the pattern that’s often seen
if left to the imagination,
looking at an Amy, Rosita or Charlene
or any in the same situation?
A telltale story our minds devise
to help us pass…. our time
and the dreams we create in the interlude
serve as rhythms in our life’s….rhyme.
© copyright 2013 t. j. gargano