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.
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