Every Wednesday

Every Wednesday,
Not Tuesday,
Nor Thursday,
I would see her,
Brolly in hand,
Purple dotted with pink
Sheilding her from the sun.

I always found her
Perculiar,
And I wanted
To know more.

I asked everyone
I knew
And even those
I did not
About the woman
With the purple and pink brolly.

Unfortunately,
No one had a clue
Who I was talking about,
And even those
Whose faces showed familarity
Looked at me strangely,
Mumbling something
Then walked away.

On a Wednesday,
Not a Monday,
Nor a Friday,
I followed her.

Through the small streets
And the back alleys,
I followed her
And in the open areas
I kept my distance.

She walked to the boardwalk
And passed that to walk
To the water's edge.
There she stood and
There she looked out.

Minutes passed,
Then hours and
My curiousity grew,
My confidence grew.

I walked up to her,
Stood next to her,
Then I spoke to her.
"Who are you?"

She did not look at me
But she reponded
With a question
Draped in the clothes
Of a statement.
"You can see me?"

"I can see you
As I can see
The birds swooping
And diving above
The surf.
What are you
Looking at?"

"I am looking
At the storm
Brewing in the
Distance."

I saw nothing,
I searched the horizon
And I saw nothing.
I looked beside me
And I saw nothing.
She was gone.

Every Wednesday,
Not Sunday,
Nor Saturday
I saw the woman
With the purple and pink brolly.

As years pass,
I grew older,
I would talk to her,
She would disappear,
But she never grew old.

The woman with
The Purple and pink brolly.