We Met A Lady Poem by Adrian Flett

At the crossroads a sandstone post
takes the strain of the fence,
strand by strand; in the background
the high escarpment rises beyond Winter's veld.


Floral dress neatly over knees she sat,
luggage beside her near the post.
Black buckled shoes shone as if she trod too lightly
to disturb the powder brown dust of the road.


We slowed, vacillating between the photo
and the thought that she would expect
a lift and we, full to the seams,
bulging with bodies and baggage.


Her smile stopped short our greeting
and apology, 'No I saw you were full, '
as we took our picture and, suitably chastened,
left her waiting patiently for the taxi.