Your father would yell for me
to stay off of the grass.
But I would chance a pass
to get to the next street.
In the upstairs window, a face
into the realm of my consciousness.
A day came when I entered your yard,
clean jeans and hair combed,
sweaty palms rubbing against
the coarse denim of my youth.
You. Dark eyes and a generous smile.
Dark flowing hair and a flair
for always appearing when I would
pass through. I searched your father's eyes
for permission of a sort, and he simply nodded.
getting to the next street, but I knew your
smile would always be waiting, Cheshire Cat
at the ready; touched by your grace.
We've met many times in our imaginations.
I've known your smile in the beauty of your words.