There Was This Girl

There was this girl. Her eyes were the far side of the moon. Her hair was early evening rain. Her voice was dust and gravel. And when she moved my world stood still.

There was this girl. She was younger than I and twice my age. She asked for my name and number. She talked to me after class. And I walked her to her car in a happy daze.

There was this girl. She stole my time and filled my heart. She felt my hope and my longing. She read my face and knew I loved her. And I knew she would never love me back.

There was this man. He wrote poetry but not for her. He tried to forget her but never could. He punched a wall and bruised his hand. And it eventually healed or so he thought.

There was a time. When I thought the moon was possible. When I thought the rain was soothing. When I thought gravel was charming. And now I know meaning from metaphor.

There was this girl.  Her eyes were the far side of the moon. Her hair was early evening rain. Her voice was dust and gravel. And when she moved my world stood still. . .