The touch of her soft flowing hair
I don’t think she’s really aware
That the touch of her soft flowing hair
Takes me drifting through time
To that evening at nine
When she stole my heart without care
I had just held the door
Nothing less – nothing more
A flash of eyes blue
A whispered “thank you”
Made me wish to perform an encore
The hook had been set
Though she wasn’t fishing
I sat alone at the bar
Silently wishing
She’d said just a little bit more
Thus, fate intervened
As we left in the rain
Draped beneath our old coats
Leaping o’er curbside moats
Setting sail on an endless affair
All our secrets abide
Even those that we “hide”
In those quizzical grins
That mask all or our sins
‘neath the touch of her soft flowing hair
Copyright © John Lawless | Year Posted 2025
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