by Janet Hanna
As you stepped from the train,
your dress billowed out
in the underdraft
Your arms were bare
and white
against the dark
background of the coach
The rain threatened
your soft brown curls
and I saw you hesitate
ever so slightly
For a second
you seemed to pitch forward
and I caught my breath
As I summoned a porter
to help with my crate of oranges,
I saw you smiling shyly
in front of your young man
