One evening

When she wore turquoise

Dress that covered up to her knee

A beautiful little girl she ought to be

Hiding her age

Intoxicating herself neat

He watched her from

Across the floor

They say meetings are planned

And energies are aware

Of connections

Before they are even formed

It drew his attention,

It drew hers

Afraid to approach afraid to touch

Hesitant to speak much

Watched each other in-discretion

As the evening aged like fine wine

Looked orange

With sun watching beneath the clouds

The connection of souls

It was creation of the new

Or something that was long due

In a room full of people

She knew

She’d still run into his arms

To this stranger, about whom she had

No clue

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