That Woman’s Eyes

 

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She, the lonely heart with eyes telling of suffering

A fight fatigue, gazing across the room subtle

Shy-like hesitant, except with a wiliness to engage

 

The tea she blows, sip it hot

Both hands clutching

Only eyes appear above cup

 

Her stare, magnetic-pulling

Her stare, engaging unsettling

 

Intrigued to say the least

My smile, an overachieving welcoming

My eyes wide, there innocent, they are forgiving

 

Hasty her face expression is deepened

Body movement shifting uneasily

Bracing upward out of my chair with intent to achieve—

The close encounter

 

I hear “I’m ready”, the voice deep, a forceful tone

My destination halt, seeing this mans’ hand she’s holding

Like water to flame, my warmth is doused

 

Suave as the actor, sinking back into chair, a foolish-face

Scrambling brain and all

Were signs misinterpreted? My questioned

 

Then, like a moment to prevent time

She gives backward glance with petitioning eyes

A distress code universal recognized

 

What am I to do?

The judge without proof

Still, can I carry-on tomorrow?

Perceiving a possible agony this woman is going through today

Am I alone at the crossroad to decide this woman’s fate?

 

Surely there must be comfort unto myself

That there’s no proof involved,

Though I have felt well advised

Seeing the look in that woman’s’ eyes