I knew her. We were at work together.

I had not seen her for at least two years.

‘I’ve left Mike.’ The news came as a bombshell.

‘I’m with Vince now. You know, from the office.’

‘But you seemed so happy,’ I said, weakly.

‘You have to seize the moment,’ was her reply.

 

The moment? Vince? That lazy sofa slug?

‘He’s exciting!’ she snapped, smiling hungrily.

‘The moment. It may only come past once.’

 

Thirty years later, I ran into her

In Wolverhampton. Her hair had gone grey.

She was not with Vince. A man with a stoop

And a plastic carrier bag linked arms

With her past. The moment had come, and gone.