Like 1970

March 8, 2012
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She smiles, laughs, and waves at me.
Playful, she looks away.
Her hair whips around, sailing smooth in all directions.
It's all just a simplistic joke in her eyes.
But she didn't see how the sunlight plays off the lens.
I'm glad I didn't die before I met her.
She bats away the camera, giggling like a school girl.
She is a school girl, a not-so-simplistic school girl.
Rays dancing across
Her Hazel Eyes: Green, brown;
sketched with life.
And it feels like 1970.

I watch her in the ocean.
Twirling, swirling, whirling,
watching me, watching the sky, living the vibrant shades of summer.
The same playful, curious laugh, making riddles at my expense.
She is a riddle, a not-so-simplistic riddle.
Her short dark hair is glued to the sides of her face with salt water.
Full-hearted laughter, the kind that can fuel nature.
Sunlight: Orange, yellow;
it shines through my vision like 1970.

I hear Her happiness echo in flowers yet.

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