Love at First Glance

Love at First Glance

One Glance. One Risk. One Forever.

Poetry:

First Glance

A single look—just one, no more,

A spark that set my soul aflame.

The world, once vast, now held just one,

And whispered to me his name.

The air stood still, the noise dissolved,

As if the earth had ceased to spin.

His eyes met mine—a fleeting touch—

Yet something new bloomed deep within.

The Risk

Do I dare speak? Do I dare stay?

Or turn and walk the safer way?

The heart is wild, the mind is wise,

But love won’t heed the mind’s disguise.

One step, one word, one leap of faith,

A gamble made with trembling hands.

For what’s a life untouched by love?

A ship that never finds the land.

One Forever

No turning back, no second guess,

The path is set, the heart says yes.

A glance, a risk, a love so true,

And now my forever is with you.

Story:

The train station was crowded, a sea of hurried footsteps and echoing announcements. Clara adjusted the strap of her bag, her fingers tapping impatiently against her ticket. She was late—of course she was late. Her flight had been delayed, then her luggage took forever, and now she was sprinting through the terminal like some tragic heroine in a rom-com.

And then, as fate would have it, she collided with someone.

Strong hands steadied her before she could topple over. "Whoa, easy there."

Clara looked up—and time stopped.

One glance.

His eyes were the color of stormy skies, deep and endless, framed by lashes darker than midnight. He wasn’t just handsome—he was the kind of beautiful that made her breath hitch, the kind that poets wrote about.

"Sorry," she stammered, stepping back. "I wasn’t looking where I was going."

A slow, amused smile curved his lips. "Neither was I."

For a heartbeat, neither moved. The world around them blurred—the noise, the people, the station—all fading into insignificance.

Then, the overhead speaker crackled to life. "Final boarding call for Train 217 to Hartford."

Clara jolted. Her train.

She hesitated, torn between the practical thing (running to catch it) and the insane, reckless thing (staying right here, talking to this stranger).

One risk.

He must have seen the conflict in her eyes because he tilted his head slightly. "You going to Hartford?"

She nodded.

"Me too." A pause. Then, softer: "We could sit together."

Clara’s pulse roared in her ears. This was insane. She didn’t even know his name.

But something in his gaze—something warm and knowing—made her throw caution to the wind.

"Okay," she said.

His name was Lucas.

He was a writer, traveling for a book signing. He hated coffee but loved tea, had a scar above his eyebrow from a childhood accident, and laughed in a way that made Clara’s chest ache.

They talked the entire ride. About books, about life, about the places they’d been and the ones they still wanted to see. Hours slipped by unnoticed, the landscape outside the window shifting from cityscapes to rolling hills.

And with every word, every shared smile, Clara felt something dangerous and wonderful unfolding inside her.

This can’t be real, she thought. People don’t just meet like this.

But then Lucas reached across the space between them, his fingers brushing hers. "Tell me something true," he murmured.

Clara swallowed. "I think I’m falling for you."

The words slipped out before she could stop them. She braced for regret, for his polite dismissal—but instead, his smile deepened.

"Good," he said. "Because I’m already gone."

The train pulled into Hartford. The spell should have broken—reality should have rushed back in. But as they stepped onto the platform, Lucas turned to her, his expression serious.

"I know this is crazy," he said. "But I don’t want to say goodbye."

Clara’s heart hammered. "Then don’t."

One forever.

That was the moment she knew—this wasn’t just a chance encounter. This was the beginning of everything.

And as he kissed her under the station lights, Clara realized: some loves take a lifetime to build.

Theirs began in a single glance.