The Park Bench or Destiny Gone Awry

“Hello!” he said, and lightly tipped his hat.

He spoke! She thought, and was rooted where she sat.

He smiled, was that a twinkle in her eye?

Head bowed, no pretense, she was shy.

He moved a little closer, gaining nerve enough to speak.

Her heart fluttered, and she felt a little weak.

“My name is John,” and he offered her his hand.

She moved away a bit, he would never understand.

They delighted at the antics of squirrels runnin’ ‘round.

And watched with fascination, birds flutter to the ground.

The sky was blue; white clouds afloat on high-

Sun shining brightly, warmed the heart and eye.

“Nice day,” he said, and of her silence, pondered why?

It is, she thought, and wished she could reply.

A perfect match? Each wondered with a sigh.

Alas, he was deaf and she could not speak.

And destiny passed by.

May B. Winkel, © 1996