I stand at my window
Watching her from across the road
Deftly move around the mom and pop store
Each customer that she serves
Touches in me a raw nerve
Had I been a bit less chauvinistic
I would not have lost my beloved little mystic.
She has now to work for a livelihood
Her pride would never have withstood
My arrogance and my family's haughty gaze
Directed at her humble origins and simple ways.
the lost love...but not lost entirely...from the way you brood over it! ... nicely wrtten, Sandra...words flowing majestically in style...10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I felt that sadness, watching the little figure which no longer has anything to do with my life. That curious aching that never quite goes away. What an intimate view you've given us.