Curly locks of toasted crimson
came bouncing, swaying, oh so winsome!
Jumping across a lawn of green
was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen!
His eyes met hers of brilliant jade;
a burning scene which would never fade.
They laid staring at the clouds above
comparing visions as they fell in love.
The days of Summer soon were ending
just as two hearts were ascending.
Smiles would fade and turn to tears
which would last throughout the years.
Two decades would come and then go,
as she often thought of her childhood beau.
He wondered if she still lived there
in that little town in Delaware.
He drove to the park where he last saw her
pondering: if she had a son or daughter;
if she was married, divorced, or a widow?
Would she remember? Would she say hello?
On the bench where they shared a first kiss
could they recapture that Summer of bliss?
But he was gambling and knew in his heart,
the greatest chance: they’d remain apart.
He returned to wait there day by day
til’ he hung his head to walk away.
Then curly locks of toasted crimson
his way came from the setting of the sun.
Poetry: © Phyllis Weeks Rogers 8/4/2018
Header photo credit: flickr.com
Video credit: Tom Odell