The day she refused to converse with me,
I was sad and pondered what it could be.
She passed by me without saying a hi,
Let alone bothering to say goodbye.

Her mind was filled with incessant bad thoughts,
Like ropes tied around her neck in huge knots.
Worries and doubts stayed rooted in her mind,
Grief and frustration- that's all she could find.

Unease and fearful of those snide comments
From those people whom she loathe with laments,
Soon she avoided me with suspicion-
Thought I befriended with ill intention.

When I gave her a gift to bid farewell;
A meal in which I'd got no right to dwell.
She sat furthest from me- I'm a virus.
She didn't want what I'd given-it's not hers.

Then she left quietly on her last day,
This I remembered: early part of May.
A colleague said she had left a present
Without telling me, to my amazement.

When I was given her gift later on,
I wished to apologise, but she'd gone.
Why didn't I realise sooner? It's too late
To cry over spilled milk. Perhaps that's fate.