She wore a red shirt,
Not boasting the color, not showing it off,
But in a comfortable, yet formal manner.
She had an elegant air to her, especially that day.
Her eyes glistened a deep brown,
A brown that can't be caught in a net of words.
Her hair was placed neatly on her shoulders,
But casually tossed about.
She was lacking in confidence, something I knew she had,
She just had to reach down to find it.
I ran to her, for no reason but to try and help her.
I could only encourage and give support
Only she could find her confidence.
She touched my hands, the cold and dampness covering mine.
I felt a thousand miles away, although I was in front of her.
Her courage soared with her voice, as her hands explored the surface of mine.
Never had I felt that particular emotion before,
Heart racing, mind picking away at what to do next.
But of all, I remember that red shirt, unbraggingly picked out and comfortably worn.
5/7/2002
