Summer, late afternoons
and on winter’s icy evenings I would wait
as they would pour out of the now open gate
all the factory girls,
and I waiting,
. . . waiting for you to finish work
then follow you home
furtive and unnoticed
by you and your friends,
. . . just to watch you walking, how beautiful you were
with your dark eyes and your blushed cheeks,
you always walked like you were dancing, or skipping,
and bounced your head of bobbing hair
along the crowded streets, waving and calling good-night
to your friends
as they drifted away one after another
till only you remained,
and then, I caught up with you with a casual . . . Hello!