Sibyl

A pale smudge of school mornings,
you hung your coat in a corner of a mind,
you said 'Hello',
we both looked at the floor.

You weren't even a name
until I signed a card wishing you well,
never saw you again,
and you were just a name,
a strange name at that -
Sibyl.

No thought of you,
save a hint of freckle and auburn,
singing the words cum sybilla;
a little particle of fate.

Sucked through Kensington High Street,
into the Underground,
a chance meeting with someone;
'Did you hear about Sibyl?'
the word so alien,
I have to ask her to repeat it.

Yes, I remember,
no, I am not surprised.
Yes, it is sad.

Sibyl,
you could see death.