Tag: glare

Do you have a twin sister?

Because if you say you don’t know me
I’m certain we’ve met once before…

It was raining, and cold
I was walking home with one hand in my pocket
The other was carrying a yellow plastic bag
With my tall book tucked away neatly inside
I looked at your car there
Shining and black
It was a rare automobile
And I commented on that
You waved your hair, eyes glared at me
A look that would leave most men cowering
Me? Nah. It didn’t fool me
We were good friends in a previous life
That’s how I knew we’d met again
Long forgotten hide-and-seek game
We found each other again, didn’t we?
Did you get that same feeling?
Little butterflies in your stomach
Knees that started to shake
And breath that came in short wisps?
I sure did, not because of the look
It was the memories that flooded back
Years had passed in searching
Where only a calendar could tell what we’d lost
I felt your heart flutter
In spite of your cool demeanor
That’s why I never looked back
When you told me to get in that
Rare black automobile
That’s why it hurt me so much
When you drove that car away