Ode To A Stranger

Dear Stranger, how I admire you.

From your notepad to your cup of coffee,

or is it herbal tea?

Whatever it may be,

I see something in you that’s seldom found.

Culture, vision, and creativity, that is in you, so renowned.

I continue to glance over at you naturally,

drawn to who you may be.

You’re not the ‘ol “mystery man”,

but a sight I can’t refuse to see.

From the beautiful flaw on your neck

to the laces of your shoes and their arc,

the curiosity I have for what a specimen you are

grows as the seconds pass like the beating of my heart.

Who are you?, if I may ask, how I want to walk up to you.

But you sit still over there, as I over here, do too.

Are we two of kind? I’m doing the same thing, writing in my book,

but look, are you writing about me?

I doubt it, why should you anyway?

you know me not, nor do I know you,

but I see your head glancing around, looking for inspiration there? Or is that too out of the blue?

Sincerely, the young lady with notepad anew, tables across from you.