Why will she not look at me?
With her auburn hair and hidden eyes.
She’s just standing there, by the table
Her hand resting on its edge.
Her golden straps sit smartly
Against her fair fair skin.
Her sleek black dress fits her form
She looks corseted in.
Holding her dress in one pale hand
She insists on looking aside.
Why will she not look at me?
Does she have something to hide?