Met A Girl


By Tricia Marcella Cimera


Alone and uninspired,

            Poet takes a walk.

Nothing seems extraordinary,

            everything is ordinary.

Then he sees her,

            lovely girl

smiles straight at him,

            cries hello hello!

Poet says the same

            and at that moment:

sees the sun running

            like yellow yellow yolk,

the sky a cobalt china plate,

            clouds whipped like

whip cream in a cup,

            birds high up looking

like black raisins

            in a blue croissant.

Then −

            the girls walks on and

Poet saunters home,

            stares at the wall,

hungry for a poem.

            Air passes through his ears

(like wind in a tunnel)

            while he sits and muses:

That girl, I know that I

                        met her for

a reason but


            what could that reason be?