The Encounter

Last month, I attended Poets at Play for the first time at the Markham House in History Park, San Jose.  It was nice to meet a small group of poets and spend a nice afternoon writing and discussing poetry.  The theme for the month was “memory.”  I was able to write two poems that afternoon and I will share one with you today, the one I didn’t read out loud.  A poet suggested writing memory from someone else’s perspective, so I decided to write this.  I hope you enjoy it.

The Encounter

Coming out of the trashcan,
I felt my fur on end…
a pair of eyes watching me.
She was there, the human,
looking at me, watching…
my every move.

I jumped back in,
I jumped back out.
I poked my head
around.
She was still there
watching me.

I scurried down the trashcan.
I scurried up a tree,
found a little nook
that was comforting to me.

I lost sight of her.
She lost sight of me,
or so I thought,
until I felt her eyes
once again, watching me.

I pretended not to see.
She pretended to let me be,
walking away,
so I could enjoy my day.

Maybe a squirrel and a girl
could be friends.

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