At A Young Girl's First Shoeless Walk

[August 23, 2012; approximately 4pm]


Lines of time and space, from which the stars emerged
and constellated, have here and now converged
to bring you to this moment, and bring me:
a moment fleeting but embraced in poetry.


At the end of my street (prosaic I confess,
but far enough from the urban worldliness,
beyond), you turn the corner, walking casually,
ignoring the nondescript neighbors who do not see


you---clad in a tank top and faded, boot-cut jeans.
Bright pink socks softly ensheathe your feet.
Shoes in hand, your careful walk suggests "first time";
your smile ensures it will not be the last.


Like a serendipitous choreography,
you come into my direct line of sight.
I need not squint for distance; you do not hurry.
Our eyes meet, and hold; your smile, undiminished.


Your pace is a little slower as you pass by.
Distractions, for once, do not intrude upon
the edges of this fragile brevity---
that feels like it belongs to us, us only.


Neither the world of artifical pose,
nor the sprawl and spew of chaotic prose
obtain. The customary quotidian
is broken apart, shattered, left undone.


Like foliage turning toward the ecliptic sun,
my gaze follows you to the vanishing point.
Your beauty has shown me the Beautiful;
your unshod footsteps traced these words upon my soul.




Unworthy I am, for Poetry to choose

me to witness initiation of a young Muse---

learning how certain sorts of footsteps measure

an old Poet's verse, for her---and for his---pleasure.





Author's Notes/Comments: 

Inspired by an incident in August, 2012; slightly altered on purpose.  This is one of two poems with a title inspired by Aickman's greatest short story, "Pages From A Young Girl's Journal"

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