Suddenly standing there in our brief aisle
at noon, you stared at me like Renoir’s Girl
with a Hoop, her slightest hint of a smile,
and deep eyes like hers, though yours blue-gray pearl,
your shining light hair now dark shade like hers,
even darker still. Reflex had me hug
you. You gestured a slight caress, deferred
depth to politeness: How are you? I shrugged
a bit and told you. I praised your dark hair.
You stepped away, probably knowing words
I wanted to say from sharing my stare.
That night I watched UCTV, then heard
Nancy Wilson sing as I thought back to
this first time I’d had a chance to hold you.
Roger Armbrust
November 27, 2011
