I saw you sitting there

alone with your pink hair.

You looked so pretty

with the band

playing jazzy folk songs behind you.

But you weren't facing the music.

You were facing me,

sitting at a glass-top table

with a cool drink in your hand.

It was a breezy, almost tropical, summer evening.

The wind blew through your hair,

and you smiled

as you mouthed the words to one of the songs –

a song I had never heard before.

But you knew it.

You were so pretty

as you sang to yourself.

And I couldn't see past your beautiful eyes.

Story and Photos Copyright © 2023 by Michael DeFrancesco