Just glass, clear, unfrosted glass stands between them
Them, being strangers, one to the other.
It is raining, the sky loud and heavy.
One walks with a plodding dog, its head down and she in its wake.
And the other stands hopeful behind the glass,
The glass awash with rivulets of running water
She stands in a hallway, a seat beside her.
She can see the road, the low walled apron of grass
And beyond the grass the stunted trees, beyond them
The dilapidated greenhouses and beyond those
The ever alluring horizon,
Though it is barely visible today, the mizzling rain holding it to ransom.
She sees the figure walking past, hood up with a small dog
And automatically raises her hand to the glass,
Just clear, unfrosted, unblemished glass
Save for water patterns ever changing upon its slick surface..
She raises her hand, one human being to another
In peripheral vision the hooded woman
Catches a glimpse of red behind the glass and turns her head.
She raises her hand much like an automaton and
Instantly there is eye contact and duality of smiles
Revealing the invisible woman behind the glass to herself.
And the woman with the dog walks on
The dog plodding and she in its wake
And the rain runs mad down the clear unfrosted glass
And the stranger in the red cardigan sits in the chair
And gazes at the road and the low walled apron of grass
And the stunted trees and the dilapidated greenhouses
And the alluring gem of the seas horizon.
Trudie Shannon
