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by John MacLean

The snow fell soft and silent on your ledge,
And sitting on your dormitory bed,
We listened to “The Moldau” on the edge
Of reckless currents full of things unsaid.
I wanted you to ask the world of me.
A surge of Smetana’s river took my heart,
Like water carving rock to reach the sea.
“Could one man love so much ...” I heard you start.

The phone rang and your face changed with his voice.
Considerate, I turned the music low,
Stepped to the hall, into the life that is.
You missed the silent nod that spoke my choice.
Old now, I hear “The Moldau,” watch the snow,
And know we flirted once with other lives.

John MacLean has been a high school English teacher for 28 years. His book If You Teach it They Will Read was published by Rowman and Littlefield in 2010.

See links to all sonnets by this author

Pat Jones
Published 23 August 2011