I was sitting in a café when I saw her
This was not the first time–I had no idea it would be the last.
She was on her bike; sitting up straight!
Gliding through the plaza.
I gasped as she rode through the rushing crowd–effortlessly.
She was too graceful to fall.
Her hair was a lime green that day,
A different color from the last time.
The flowing filaments matched her round sunglasses. She was a beautiful
I craned to follow her
But she was gone.