The Sphinx

She sat in her usual spot in glorious splendor
Dressed in the same mink coat and matching hat
The worn out bench coming into its own with her in it
Her regal and gracious looks transforming it into a throne.

Wisps of gray hair frame her mysterious inscrutable face
Making others simply falter and hesitate to share her bench
Spidery blue veins cover her wrists n the backs of her palms
Her faded blue eyes constantly scan the passersby avidly

Whence has she come from and what does she seek
Her courage and stiff upper lip somehow forbid intrusion
I am full of questions and sheer untrammeled curiosity
Which refuses to be tethered or firmly denied

I somehow picture her as the doyen of the Czar’s family
Surrounded by opulence of gold dishes, cut glass and Faberge eggs
Priceless chandeliers, gold icons and numerous attendants underfoot
Caviar, fillet mignon n gourmet food n wine and vodka flowing freely

Riding a beautiful open troika with the royal insignia
Drawn by matched pair of the finest full-blooded Arabian steeds
The crisp cold air misting her gentle breaths billowing amidst
Tinkling bells, swirling snowflakes, twinkling stars in clear skies

Perhaps she is on a mission of finding a missing dear one
Perhaps she has a rough idea of the last location of this person
Perhaps she hopes against hope in finding this person from her perch
And perhaps hopes by some miracle to succeed in this relentless search

I just don’t know and lack the nerve to intrude!!

“curiosity killed the cat, but for a while I was a suspect.”

                                                                  -Steven Wright


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