Where pay tribute to a hometown -- where light a torch or chisel words in stone?
Monday, November 27, 2017
High School Love ~ 1949
Like the faun must when observed
with more graceful strides seek distance,
so also did she
whom I had sighted that morning
from where I stood, withdrawn,
facing the High School's entrance
into which she, on courtly gait,
had vanished.
Hurriedly, I wove over
through milling crowds
pursuing her
up wide steps to pillars
and the door she used,
and once inside
I mounted
the stately winding staircase.
On reaching the top
deserted hallways
opened mocking arms to me
with all my expectant dreams
and I stood there forlorn,
broken in an instant
knowing finally then
that she had chosen him.
Shattered all boyant schemes
of meeting her
as I had envisioned
in endless vigils of longing,
shattered the hope
of knowing her aware
of my burning yearning suffered,
to be thus driven to her.
Then rue set in,
with shame blended,
with dawning awareness
that gloating eyes had seen me,
with glee most likely,
being driven, they would whisper,
to that glimpsed vision
of my vain search.
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