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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=460302" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Woman at the Crossroad Who Laughed</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">As I walked up the pavement, up the slight hill<br>to the traffic lights at the crossroads outside the station, <br>I saw her waiting to cross.<br>Or rather, I saw first, her laugh..</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She held the hand of her son<br>as she exchanged words with a passing friend<br>and laughed..</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and what I saw in her eyes, her whole face, <br>as she laughed, was that as she laughed -<br>(did she know this? How could I tell her, a stranger? <br>Lady, lady, at the crossroad of our lives, <br>I’m writing this poem for you now…) </div><div style="margin:10px 0">as she laughed, while she laughed, <br>I saw that she was in touch, the whole of her, <br>with her deepest self – just that… all that…<br>and as I saw that self, which was<br>(Lady, are you reading this?) <br>the perfection of perfection, all that’s perfect…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">it was as if – no, it was just so –<br>her self looked at me, and so<br>the perfect looked at the perfect; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">herself and mine together laughed, <br>laughed at imperfection</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and as the perfect looked, it saw perfection<br>spreading through my eyes from our shared self<br>so that her son was perfect; and her friend was perfect; <br>and all around us, every they and it were perfect..</div><div style="margin:10px 0">(Lady, Lady, at the Cross’s foot, <br>was it like this for You?) </div><div style="margin:10px 0">the light turned green. And we were free<br>to cross the road; and<br>free to live; and<br>free to laugh away illusion; and<br>free to be ourselves; forever, <br>in that time which is forever.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lady, by my faith, this by my hand; <br>and with my life I do yet swear<br>upon my life, this to be true; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lady, hear, in this my orison, <br>there are no sins<br>to be remembered.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Michael+Shepherd">Michael Shepherd</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=460302" data-title="The Woman at the Crossroad Who Laughed de Michael Shepherd" data-description="As I walked up the pavement, up the slight hill
to the traffic lights at the crossroads outside the station, 
I saw her waiting to cross.
Or rather, I saw first, her laugh..

She held the hand of her son
as she exchanged words with a passing frien..."></div>
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