She was cute in an “only girl in the place” sort of way.
Spoke with some “foreign accent”* that I couldn’t quite place.
She said she was here till June, or maybe it was May,
she’d got a smile to make me forget the time of day.
Her hair was made of spun gold – at least it looked that way to me.
The only girl for me.
She spoke soft as snowflakes on a winter’s day.
She was gone tomorrow, but here today.
We were dancing close, made my heart race away,
she could come back with me, and maybe stay.
©31.8.2015 Andrew Robert Chapman
*Say in Australian twang