Encounter

Street folk

A sharp scream that pierced the night,
echoing through the neighbourhood.
Its owner unknown, hidden amongst the black.
The street folk shifted, sensing something but not wanting to know.
Hands in pockets, gazes cast down, they shuffle forwards.
One more time, louder in the growing darkness.
Quick glance, one foot in front of the other.
Hurry now. Try not to be the last.

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What lies behind?

A turn of a head,
for just a split second.
There’s that look. Held.
So steady and sure.
Strong, yet seemingly pure. 

Not a flutter, nor a falter.
Piercing, enchanting, 
understanding, judging?
What lies behind?
Is it something kind? 

Your stomach starts to churn,
so very nearly knotted.
A tiny slice of doubt. Niggling.
And so you look elsewhere,
Anywhere but there.

The fleeting moment flown.
Long lost before it started. 
And so you sit and wonder,
what did they see?
And once again, off you flee.