First Date
We rode her trusty steed,
A shiny yellow mustang,
Clip-clop, down the ancient street.
She had the look of a princess,
Golden hair, halo-like
Crowning a face
Adorned with two emeralds.
We pulled reins
near a moss laden wall
In front of the common house.
She had a warmth and a scent
That reminded me
Of a country greenhouse.
Her voice, not regal
but refreshing
Like laundered white linen.
Quite comfortable, I thought,
So far from home
In the presence
Of the rest of my life.
Our lips blended two souls
Under the harvest moon,
Silence,
Almost churchlike,
With only the sound of our hearts.
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