Still Seventeen At Seventy
sunny morning bus ride,
her hair tousled happily
by the mountain breeze,
strands of it softly straying
across his grateful face;
ah, how beautiful she was,
captivating his coy heart,
but didn't have the words,
words that had the courage
to be heard and understood,
but froze in fear and opted
to wait for a better time,
she was then just seventeen,
and now well past seventy,
still his time has not come!
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