A stranger, I saw in boulevard,
Drizzling down, blurred sight
Standing soaking, off wool lard
Appeared she known; her face white.
Face upwards, straight to sky
Obtaining into her, the divine bliss,
“She is my own,” assumed I why
“Who is she, is something I miss?”
Under umbrella, evading heaven-shower,
Hiding my identity, behind high collar
With paced feet, passed through street,
To recognize the face, in haste to meet.
As visions exchanged, recollection sent messengers,
Passed by across, two familiar strangers.
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