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by Joe Cramer

The breeze blew slowly through your close-cropped hair,
I watched you silently, sitting there
Against the turbulence of the late afternoon sea,
Wondering if you had even noticed me.

The quiet poet who sat on this same beach
So very close to you, and decidely out of reach.
Gazing upon your beautiful bronzed form
As the sweet sun kissed it, soft and warm.

Were that I could but be that kiss
Not a spot on you would I miss.
A gentle breeze lissed your short, close hair
Leaving me with feelings, I know not where.

07/26/2000

Posted on 03/12/2006
Copyright © 2024 Joe Cramer

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