We met at a summer dance, / Then she was gone.
By Bob Egbert
We met at a summer dance,
Then she was gone.
Letters, phone calls,
Winter months alone.
Other people, other places, other plans.
Driving west in the spring to
An imagined home in the mountains.
She said she would come in August,
To be with me for a time.
Not knowing, waiting,
At Livingston station,
She stepped off the train.
Bob Egbert lives in Roanoke. He is a retired Therapeutic Recreation Specialist and a Vietnam veteran. He and his wife, Susan, have self-published a book titled Painted Words, which can be found at Left of Center Art Space in Roanoke.
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