Sunday/Michael Kwack

 

Could’ve I met

  that woman? --

 

From somewhere distant,

 

With an ear of tiny hope

  in a sack of vacant heart,

 

To drop ennui,

To glean sympathy,

 

Or simply

  to hide in an afternoon chat,

 

Blinking those tender eyes,

 

Would’ve she sneaked away

  from her dim chamber,

 

That little woman

  of timid blush.