For my friend Sam who would rave about a woman he’d see walking in his Venice neighborhood. Often times they passed each other on the street, but he never spoke up and said hello. Instead he’d call and obsessively talk about her. This went on for months and months. From all that he told me I wrote this for them. He deemed it a lost cause without taking a chance. He’d just wait, watch, and dream.
The One That Got Away
Her timeless beauty took my breath away at first sight.
Her eyes danced as she stood scanning the street.
I like her mischievous knowing grin and confident stride.
You can tell she’s trouble by the way her
head falls back when she laughs.
A good kind of trouble.
The kind you want to be a part of.
The kind you’re lucky to be a part of.
She could be a classic dancer,
that’s my guess, I bet she is.
You can see she’s got talent.
Undeniable flair.
Her fiery red hair undulates as she glides
gracefully down the street.
As though all in her world is a breeze.
Effortlessly she navigates the Venice Beach crowd as
if they feel her gravity, her atmospheric pull.
Radiant, vivacious, she lights up the street.
The stars ain’t got nothing on her.
I love her big full lips, so ripe with passion.
I long to be the one that brushes that few strands of
wind blown hair from her mouth and
explore the softness of her mouth with mine.
Her countenance intimidates me.
We are worlds apart, yet mere inches away.
Do you think she notices me.
Does she know I look for her?
Can she see my excitement?
Sense electricity as she passes by?
I do.
How I’d love to dance with her.
Take her in my arms and hold her tight.
Together we’d sway. I’d hold her close.
I would feel her heartbeat as
we moved together in
the moonlight.
Seeing her gives me butterflies and sparks of excitement
followed by regret as she walks past me in silence.
At times I get a quick glance and a hurried half smile.
Why don"t I talk to her?
Just open my mouth and see.
Or is it that I know its
just not meant
to be
