Hugged by a mystery

A multi-clops, the balconies jut out from concrete faces
in Lithuania - a land of simple graces,
these massive buildings: communism’s traces
stand like unsure occupants of foreign spaces.

Good food and beer, peaceful, simple land:
a grandma’s selling amber, silver stands,
the pedestals are empty, statues - time's sand.

Dark, crunchy snacks, a mug of Shvituras,
a bowl of cold beet soup, some sour cream in a glass,
and piping hot potatoes dilled like grass.

Our trip provisions here and there assembled,
I packed them in the trunk and curiously trembled,
a lady smiled at me wistfully and rambled,

“Light flows, that is what I see,
shines through your personality”
I stood confused, who could she be?

She stated that she wants a hug,
quite innocent she looked and with a shrug,
her frailty I hugged, and warm emotions ran amuck.

She thanked me, I turned my attention to our trunk,
but with a sudden thought, in memory half-sunk,
I looked around, there was no one,
just strange and thick the summer air hung.