“You’ll meet in the spring, where you’re not going
now,
“You’ll have a shared interest; you’ll know it’s
right.”
Words of a psychic sound strange somehow.
What could the interest be? Maybe they’ll write.
Fast forward to spring, black hair and black coat,
A striking appearance, could this be him?
But how to get talking? I watch, remote,
He unlocks his car door, opens, gets in.
I watch as he drives past my own parked car.
Next time he smiles and gives me a wave.
Two magpies appear, sign of joy to my heart,
I ponder his name: Steven, Simon or Dave?
Just one tiny gesture to make my heart sing,
But then dashed in an instant, the flash of a ring.
