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