While the twilight was turning into starry night,
On the roads of Rose Hill we would walk,
Past the rows of beach houses bestowed on our right,
To beguile the sweet time with soft talk.

In a cardigan sweater that went past her waist,
Incasing both shoulders and arms,
With a mouth whose moist mirth I was longing to taste,
While embracing emblazoning storms.

On a bench as we sat, our duet “Heart and Soul”
Was controlling what fingers were doing.
Her left shoulder of my heart had quite a firm hold,
While below the bench our legs were wooing.

Her laughter was musical, rounded, and shy,
With her smile a conspicuous gift.
Dolce redolent Renaissance brown hair and eyes
In whose gaze in a daze you would lift.

Only eighteen short summers you gave our lakeshore
A rare form of such delicate grace.
But what I, in my mind’s eye will see evermore,
Is your soul through your radiant face.

 

(c) Ken Sullivan, 2020