That One Sunday
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Every Sunday was the same,
he thought solemnly.
Holding down the very last pew,
half-hearing the homily.
A shimmer from the doorway,
stealing his attention.
A glimpse of her gentle features,
held him in suspension.
She silently slipped into the crowd,
well after the service started.
Her fingers smoothed the tresses,
affirming it was parted.
He swallowed nervously,
but could not avert his stare.
Her fair skin and gilded locks
glowed faintly in the sunlit glare.
He planned an introduction,
when services were through.
He would invite her to lunch,
perhaps even a drink or two.
He glanced her way again
and his apprehension grew.
She met his gaze with lifted brow,
his curiosity renewed.
Grinning now, he nodded at her
amused by her reaction.
The congregation stood to sing,
blocking his distraction.
All throughout the service,
his mind whirled with wonder.
As the final prayer was read,
his plan fell asunder.
He waded through the crowd,
his determination winning
over the nervousness
that had his mind spinning.
When he reached her row at last,
his heart nearly stopped.
She was nowhere to be found,
his charming smile dropped.
He raced for the exit,
his heart fervently beating.
They had a connection,
he was sure, albeit fleeting.
Her car drove off, gravel flying,
as she sped away.
He wouldn't soon forget,
how they met, that one Sunday.
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