A Flower, A Thunderstorm

What a surprise to find you here,
Back from your city home
To see the faces you hold dear,
The halls you used to roam.

The face I see...there's no mistake;
A girl I knew so well,
Now sharing today's coffee break
With many a tale to tell.

Outside a flash and then a BOOM
And soon a driving rain.
But now here in the music room
I recall an old pain.

Yes, I can see you're older now.
You've been gone for a while.
The girl's a woman come of age,
But still she has that smile!

I remember you in seventh grade,
So spunky, kind of dingie.
You smiled as though you had it made
Struggling with that cello thingy.

We never thought you'd get the hang
Of that monstrosity,
But after a while that cello sang,
And you smiled beautifully.

In ninth grade you were present in
My Oral English class.
From in the back, a pleasant grin
Stood out among the mass.

Your class had many problems, but
You were not ever one.
You struggled hard to make the cut,
And made it look like fun.

Eleventh grade made you a part
Of the upper echelon
Of the music club, your favored art,
But it quickly went all wrong.

They picked a leader who wouldn't lead,
A committee that wouldn't commit,
We knew you'd be the one we'd need;
The one good part of it.

Your patience and your able brain
Came through when balls were dropped.
You smiled oft through bitter pain,
But still you never flopped.

Your final concert came, and you
Were to interview me.
But somehow you did not come through;
I took it personally.

But then I overheard you cry
On Mr. Sakuma's shoulder,
And then there was no question why.
I felt guilty...and much older.

A teenage crush is nothing new;
It's something soon forgot,
But it seemed I had affected you
More deeply than I'd thought.

You never knew what I'd heard you say,
And it was for the best.
You graduated, went your way,
And the matter lay to rest.

But still you sometimes came to mind,
I'd wonder what you'd become.
I've seen so many minds go blind
And wind up cold and dumb.

Two years ago we met by chance
In a Narita department store.
Wild hair and jeans, you were dressed to dance!
Yet your smile was as before.

You looked so wild and so free,
Your youthful fire so bright.
It brought a warmth inside of me,
And I drove home happy that night.

But now you look more educated,
A woman of poise and class,
More polished, more sophisticated,
No more a dingie lass!

The wild hair is tied back now,
A dress instead of jeans.
A different spark, but there, and how!
You've left behind your teens.

This country bulb bloomed in Tokyo,
A flower so lovely and bright!
I think this minstrel had better go;
There's a poem he needs to write.

Perhaps that's why this tempest came
With such a sudden start.
Three years ago perhaps the same
Was happening in your heart.

Welcome back, Y, and best wishes!