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