Red Shoes

She sits there, never even knowing I'm here.
She'll never look back at me, always looking forward.
I'll never know her, her desires, her fears, her name.
All I'll ever know is her red shoes, her hair, her smile, meant for someone other than me.
It is hopeless to hope, pointless to remember, but how can I forget?
She'll go on, on to mediocrity, I, on to oblivion.
Perhaps one look would change all that.
Yet she walks away, those red shoes carrying her away to and end I'll never know.