She was on skirt
That was what my eyes caught
It seemed like her life had never known dirt
I could write a page on her and never use but.
There was no painting on her light skinned face
She was the dim star in a very bright constellation
She shyly escaped my gaze in her speedy pace
She seemed too lonely and dumb for a wise generation.
I could see her thoughts through her eyes
Her dreams and standards were unusually high
She needed some support, a stay, but got lies –
They said she was too picky and that her dreams would die.
She was young; light skinned and was on skirt
Those were the features my physical eyes caught
But she made my mind comb through the whole earth
There was just one her, and mine she was not.