Amelia?
She was a little woman,
white-haired, in sensible shoes,
tweed skirt and twinset:
somebody’s grandma.
Late afternoon light
gave her a halo.
I felt we’d smile and say hello
as we passed each other.
Just as the lights changed
she raised her arms up and out,
like a kindergarten child
who is pretending
she’s a little aeroplane.
I stepped off the kerb
and found myself looking at the sky
above the intersection.
A seagull banked and wheeled
and flew off towards the mountain.
No-one came towards me.
There was no sign of her.