Conspiracy Theory
He knew there was a plan - he figured there had to be
to make him fall in love with her, as he did, madly.
Outside the coffee shop they had nearly collided
but there was a long pause when their stares coincided.
She was a tall blonde, and he thought she was a beauty.
He was strong of frame, and back from a tour of duty.
In only that brief moment he knew this was the girl.
She was utterly starstruck. He was to be her world.
They were complete strangers and casual passersby
who had met and were drawn to each other. Who knows why?
This did not happen simply by chance - meeting like this.
Something much greater was at work here, and then. . . they kissed.
He was dumbfounded and apologized for the kiss.
She smiled and said, ‘The point is that we don’t deny this.”
He agreed and said they should sit and talk for a while.
“Let’s find a bench there in the park,“ she said with a smile.
Her name was Anne, and she wanted to be a writer.
He was Steve, a marine, and a martial arts fighter.
He had earned a black belt. Combat was in his bloodstream.
She loved helping people and interned at “Common Dreams.”
At college she majored in Writing and English Lit.
He toured in Iraq but he got sick from a burn pit.
And then. . . he told her about his PTSD.
She said she was sorry, “How horrible that must be.”
They knew then that they both had been blinded by the signs
Their lives were opposite and their stars did not align.
They chatted a bit more then went their separate ways.
Her, back to school and he, to a clinic at the VA.
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Author:
MendedFences27 (
Offline) - Published: May 6th, 2023 21:19
- Comment from author about the poem: Story poem.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: jarcher54, Bobby O
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Comments3
Witty and subtly poignant. A whole love story in a few couplets. Not a hint of artifice, just a touching story told in a way that only poetry can, a stream of images and observations, scenes and exchanges. Bittersweet and reflects a man of deep observations and experience, of even deeper humanity. Thanks!
Thank you for most astute observations.
On an altruistic path a pure agenda is like a new carefully tended crop That farmer , without certain knowledge of the future, proceeds w tireless care , and he learns , and he honors his craft and that land is better and matured and should his love have to start anew , or not(?) his readiness had grown and holds nary a tiny regret. This piece could be about that farmer for
His grand effort is satisfying nourishment
Much appreciate your intuitive comments.
Your verse much reminds of Carole King
“I feel the earth move from under my feet”
indeed a most cleverly crafted and otherwise strategically contrived poem .. a tragic tale told terribly well and pretty on the eye too sir .. what more could one possibly want .. another winner based on so many losses .. a crying shame, for all those directly involved and of course for those who love happy endings .. Neville
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