Anselm

It was a lazy afternoon you walked into my life.
It was Saturday, in Asda- I ran on autopilot,
Snaking the trolley up and down the aisles.
And then right at the back of the store
Artificial, makes-you-crave cookies smell
You were there. Choosing bread.

Bundled up- though the day was almost warm
In a grey-black trenchcoat which swirled as you walked
Aimlessly, effortlessly smooth.
Blond, artfully-ruffled hair
You made me think of anime.
Funny- though I never saw your face
I knew you straight away.

You turned like you felt my eyes upon you
And dissolved into the sea of bright faces-
Nagging mothers, children's fingers through a mesh of grimy metal
And the bored voice from overhead: "In-store cleaner to Aisle 3."
I didn't care. I'd got what I needed.

Like a weaver, created a story around you
Matched my fiction to your own facade
Wrote blood into you, made you walk
The stage of my imagination.
I watch you grow, I make you grieve
Give you hope, and love, and comfort
Contort you to fit my author's will.

I wanted to find you an unusual name;
Trawled websites to find something that would ring true-
Anselm. Origins lie in Old English, in High German.
In the name of a saint, I found you.