It was those spontaneous smiles
that kept you coming back with
wandering hands slipping
more often than clock hands.
Wide open spaces ceaselessly
fight calm seas to find you
captivated within open,
perfect afternoons, young
like a letter saying I love you
instead of gradually
building up to the punch
goodbyes normally have.
You were my fourth of July
spunky little girl. Short bursts
of energy - explode then fade.
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