I saw a man the other day, Somewhere in Bolingbrook, Who curiously sent my way A long and knowing look. And I in turn stared back at him, For surely I did see, Deep in his eye, a trace of dim Familiarity. He looked away, a bit incensed By my alacrity, So I broke off my stare, but sensed His gaze return to me. We nursed this blend of sweet and sour As we checked out our goods, Before we left to make for our Respective neighborhoods. Of all the glimpses we did plot So surreptitiously, I won’t forget that one I caught Of him catch one of me. I strained to think where we had met; The library? The bank? The traffic signal pause beset By stares that weren’t that blank? I could have, and I should have asked, But then it was too late To see the face of chance unmasked By helping hands of fate. Or could it be that we have shared A word that binds us both, When in the Garden we declared That sempiternal oath? It is my hope that we will meet In time or timeless end; Until then, mine is patience sweet. Farewell, familiar friend.