Her angelic face put him off initially;
Too young, too innocent,
Somewhere no man should go,
So he ignored her as she rushed,
All ponytail and swaying limbs,
Another jogger outside the office,
Until she pushed past him in a haze
Of sweat and stale perfume.
He was angry at the push,
The ignorance, until he saw her,
Crashed in the chair in the office,
A towel around her shoulders, and
Sadness in her limbs. Beauty,
She said, is a vicious curse.
R 17/05/2023 23:09
Meetings ran rather late.
I miss Norway, but that’s a story for another day.