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Little Red Haired Girl
Folder:
Commemorative/Tributes Among my souvenirs
Lie pieces of a broken heart.
One broke so long ago,
By one who did depart,
Where, I do not know.
There with the patches,
Of launches of Apollo and Gemini,
They are there to remember,
Bringing a tear to my eye.
We were but eight,
That summer she moved away,
The red-haired girl behind the white gate,
Broke my heart that day.
Every now and then
I search the net,
I try to find her,
but haven’t found her yet.
I carefully pack the pieces in their place,
To await another time,
When I dust off the memories of yesterday,
And the little red-haired girl I find.
By now we are both up in age,
And the memories begin to fade.
If I were to find her would she remember me?
Probably not, so I will just let it be.
