Meg's Legs

A Poem by Maven Quibble



There’s a space from where I sit
That angles down a little bit
So I can see with blocked protection this and that,
Random things come into view
Clips and papers, nothing new
Nothing new that is until Miss Meghan’s hat.



There it sat in all its glory
Thus began this little story
First the hat, then soon followed by her shoes,
All along the steady things
Were her different purple rings
And the cuts and shades of all her denim blues.



Never once did I say "hi"
Much too scary, much too shy
Never once did I make contact face to face,
Just her legs would meet my eyes
Just her shins, just her thighs
Just until she quit to work some other place.