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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=397146" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Watching Her Walk</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her presence moves <br>frail bent, head down <br>with a bow-strung gait <br>eyes fixed to pavement </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Stopping, darting eyes <br>see something bothersome<br>a crack; a cautious step<br>moves her forward again</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At first, heads turned <br>eyebrows cocked, curiously <br>watching her walk<br>watching that walk</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A respectful 'hello Mary'<br>is usually heard<br>aging fast each year<br>less attentive <br>forgetful, slow<br>its a small town<br>people know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Occasionally, a ride is offered<br>turned down... fearfully so<br>for dim eyes see strangers<br>if a familiar voice is heard<br>still, rides are waved off <br>with a polite, 'no thanks'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now its just a kick of a can<br>to fourth Street and Beaver Avenue<br>where the once alluring presence<br>of the shapely young Slovak<br>with enchanting eyes<br>once played and walked</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Back then, heads turned<br>captured eyes stared...<br>appraisingly<br>watching her walk<br>watching that walk</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A relishing 'Hello-Mary'<br>was frequently heard<br>prettier each Year<br>un-assuming<br>un-forgetful<br>its a small town<br>young men know</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Since then<br>much water has flowed <br>now she prays... always<br>praying and walking<br>especially...since Pete's gone<br>now up there...waiting<br>for her, she knows<br>Mary without Pete<br>This small town knows</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She prays for us all <br>fervently<br>she prays for herself <br>un-knowingly</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For the air, even <br>thanks are greatly given<br>by breathing deeply<br>Thank you Lord<br>for your air<br>that I breath<br>without knowing<br>each breath in<br>moves the right foot<br>each breath out<br>moves the left</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A rhythmic cadence<br>a Prayer walking<br>is what is odd<br>This peculiar<br>gritty gait<br>is what<br>people<br>see.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pete watches <br>from up there<br>looking down<br>watching her walk<br>watching that walk</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His 'Hello My Mary'<br>is nearer each year, <br>Her presence is a bit<br>closer each year<br>Her tireless gait<br>takes that narrow way<br>up that well trod path</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>walk, un-forgetful<br>in a small mill town</div><div style="margin:10px 0">its a small town<br>a town God knows</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=George+Vuyakovich">George Vuyakovich</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=397146" data-title="Watching Her Walk de George Vuyakovich" data-description="Her presence moves 
frail bent, head down 
with a bow-strung gait 
eyes fixed to pavement 

Stopping, darting eyes 
see something bothersome
a crack; a cautious step
moves her forward again

At first, heads turned 
eyebrows cocked, curiously 
watc..."></div>
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