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by D. Savannah George
I see her walking down the busy street
a wan expression on her tired face
she's every bit a girl you'd want to meet
An outstanding member of the human race.
Iím slouching in my chair as she walks in
and joins me at a table in a nook
Iím grateful as she tenders me a grin
I return the favor with a loving look.
We sip our lattes and we talk for hours
she relaxes as she pours out all her woe.
She smells so fresh, of sunshine and of flowers
but then the time has come for her to go.
I'm saddened that she has to leave so soon --
After all, for me, she hung the moon.
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Poetry copyright © 18 Jan 98 D. Savannah George. All rights reserved. Please do not steal my work. If you would like to reprint, please ask permission.
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