This poem is another true story. This is about a homeless person I helped. I was going to say more but maybe I shouldn’t, because as I say in the poem, maybe I really cannot know what this is about, I mean with her.

The Stalker

She passed me at the market
where I sat there reading…
seemed innocent enough,
she said nothing,
just smiled to let me know
she saw me.

Just to let me know
she saw me;
she didn’t want to talk.
We never even were friends.

So, what did she want?

We were never friends,
never lovers.
What did she want?

Just to let me know
she saw me…
or that she was there.

She was inside my home,
I discovered,
just recently.
there were just a few signs,
but enough
to let me know,
she was there.

I suppose she imagines
I am afraid.
Perhaps that’s what she wants.

How many times
had she been near by,
watching,
so close and unseen,
like a snake,
in the shadows,
outside my door,
that I nearly step on.

What does she want?