On a golden sun kissed evening we met on a hill,
Her looks were shy and laugh was shrill,
Her skin was fair, and her smile was a ghost,
And among the things I lost I miss my heart the most,
She stole my words and since, I have been trying to find,
Which cotton cloud she has been hiding behind,
She hides so subtly behind a screen,
Of my words and thoughts, not to be seen,
Yet I feel her presence everywhere I go,
Gentle, ethereal, just a hint, no more.
She is in the colors that I paint; she is in the songs that I sing,
She is in everywhere, and she hides in every- thing.
The setting sun had turned her curly hair to crimson flames,
The evening shadows danced on her dress playing their games,
The evening breeze, blowing softly above,
Witnessed silently as I fell in love,
her looks were shy and her laugh was shrill.
I remember well the day. We met on that hill.