Patrick William Kavanagh
A Close Encounter
Sitting at the bus stop all alone, acting busy, toying with my mobile phone,
No mail, no texts, just playing games, and just pretending I don't feel alone.
A smile from you would mean so much, - but I can't catch your eye,
I think you're lonely just like me, - I smile at you, but you can't see.
The lonely moments ticking by, I see my chance is slipping by,
I realise that you will never look my way,
And fear's the reason why.
My smile dies in the frozen wastes between our hearts,
A friendship that will never be, A love that could have grown from such a simple start,
lies trampled on the dusty ground between our feet.
It's ghost will haunt that tiny space where we will never meet.
The world remains a poorer place, a colder place to be,
So close, so close, but we will never meet,
And there will never ever be a you and me.
Please turn and look my way, then I can smile and say hello.
Why should we walk a lonely path, - two people with no place to go,
Why live a life of emptiness and quiet despair,
when I am here, so close that I can smell the fragrance of your hair.
So close that I can almost touch your hand,
A breath away, and yet the void between us is so vast.
And yet a single smile could turn our barren worlds into a promised land.
I take a sharp, deep breath and say “hello”,
Who knows, this chance could be my very last.
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Comments about this poem (A Close Encounter by Patrick William Kavanagh )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Your Laughter, Pablo Neruda
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- The Raven, Edgar Allan Poe
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
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