I Have Been Told I Am Very Mysterious

THE MYSTERY WOMAN
(c) 2019 Edward York

Her saw her sitting
All alone,
No conversations,
No glowing phone.

Her beauty bid him,
To approach,
Careful not to be
Thought to encroach.

He took his seat,
In hopes to chat.
Right across,
From where she sat.

Her eyes were dark,
A cobalt blue.
Into your soul,
They could see through.

His propositions came,
And then some more;
The way he'd done,
So much before.

She seemed unmoved,
By all his words.
And avoided them,
Like stampeding herds.

She ignored him,
And broke his will.
She shall remain,
A mystery still.