Helena was pretty back then

Helena was Pretty back then

By

James Bredin

I didn’t know her name back then but I know it now,
Pretty as a picture and most guys went, “Wow!”
Whatever her name, she was gorgeous and young,
She worked in a downtown store close to Queen and Yonge.

I was only one of that youthful admiring gang,
Nothing much on my mind but cars, girls and poontang,
She mesmerized those of us who ever saw her face,
Her statuesque poise, her elegance and her grace.

But something told me and I don’t know how or why,
She was not interested in any particular guy,
So like an unsolved puzzle, she crisscrossed my life,
Was she religious; was she single or someone’s wife?

I watched her now and then, here and there, through the years,
On subway, streetcar; never talked and disappeared,
And the years seemed to slip by in fives, tens and twenties,
Plus she changed, got very old and showed her age plenty.

No one could have guessed that she was once young and pretty,
Ugly and bent old crone looked like she needed pity,
Maybe I change too but this I can’t recall,
Sitting with many memories on a bench in the mall.

The picture in today’s paper showed a beautiful young face,
Fashionable curls of those times with elegance and grace,
The obituary column said Helena had died,
Finally her name which her death had to provide.

Helena it said, died at eighty two among friends,
Should I go to her funeral to see who attends?
Should I have talked to her long ago before she got old?
Too late now as I sit and watch the world unfold.

Tuesday, March 7, 2006