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Sunday, November 10, 2013

The Stalker


The wind rushed through an echoing home
Only a screen and the ringing phone,
He cannot do it again, she thought.
She was terrified.

The mailman stopped to admire her yard
Carefully tended with dirt and stone,
Ten postcards and a box of poems.
He cannot do it again, she thought.
She was terrified.

Her stalker knew her birthplace, too,
Shaped cookies of Ohio,
His apology did not ring true.
Hazel eyes and eyes of blue
Locked once in a sitting room.
She was terrified.

Certain teachers have a nose
For truth in voice or truth in prose,
She knew the game had not begun.
He cannot do it again, she thought.
The stalker thought it was all in fun
But forgot when the lawyers made their run.
He was terrified.

A victim should not have to pay
Once in fact and once in court,
So the stalker whispered guilt
For postcards and a box of poems
Asking for forgiveness.
Loved maybe once so very wrong,
His heart was raw and his song was long.
He was terrified.

The phone was silent all these years
Each mail brought further fears
Until the fox and hound changed place,
She knew then what the stalker meant
To trust him and his dangerous faith.
 I can do it now, he wrote,
He can't do it again, she thought,
The apology was finally there—

Please God no fear.


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