Chance Meeting

I stood at the top of the stairs, surveying the room.

Across the space, a stranger stirred.

I dressed to impress, he in a shirt and tie.

I gingerly entered, drawn toward him

like a moth to a flame.

The fella sat down in a folding chair,

casually sprawled for comfort.

I stood with drink in hand,

looking somewhat lost and bewitched.

The first to arrive.

Handsome features and blue eyes,

a quick smile.

His voice, smooth and comforting

as he struck up a converstion.

Small talk about this and that.

I felt a tingle, an excitement.

A stirring, missing for so long.

I was there to listen.

He was there to speak.

A match made in heaven

and yet wasn't to be.