Robert E. MacIntosh
Was That She
I still think I see her.
She appears for fleeting moments in a crowd.
Smiling and happy, then... gone.
There was no time to get close.
To the owner of, the impostor of that face,
To shout out loud, "come home, my darling".
The noise of the crowd would smother my words,
And then my hopes,
And then my heart, once more,