I opened up a folded hand writ note,
In gentle ink it simply so did say
‘You do not know me but I like you quite,
So much that I would love to meet one day.
I shall be at the pub called Riverside
On the morrow, I’ll be there at noon,
My auburn hair and saffron dress your guide
To find me, if by chance a crowded room.’
I wracked my brain, no visage came to mind,
No red haired damsel that I could recall;
What harm to pay a visit there in kind
To find what held this woman so in thrall?
In wary hope I left the zenith sun
And sat ‘til certain that she would not come.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.