Her hand lingered just a bit
When it shook mine
In her face I looked for a sign
There was none
But there was something
Or some things, not sure which
I was her type
Still think that
She was mine, too
In many ways though tall
I loved her taste
In clothes, flat shoes, jewelry
She was always pleasant, fresh
Like ocean spray in June
And the way she moved about
Reminded me of the golden leaves
Caught up every year
In those autumn dust devils
Kids like so much
Too bad we moved away
And I lost track of her
Just never went back
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"She was always pleasant, fresh
Like ocean spray in June"
beautiful expressions, Randall.
Micke
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :D