Meeting

A curious thing indeed,

that somehow, we knew

just where to look.

The first time we met--

(you were terribly late)

I was watching you, flustered,

your half-moon eyes scanning the crowd,

for the stranger, unrecognizable

in my long hair, my black-rimmed spectacles.

Then you found me,

your gaze landing on

the smudged mascara

on the corner of my eye.

(endearing, you said, in hindsight,

and I would roll my eyes.)

We shook hands, our eyes met.

Though you quickly avoided mine,

(you were shy then)

in that one look,

the Fates caught sight,

spinning their invisible threads,

weaving us together.

We saw it all.