a car passes by my perfectly gardened front lawn
the car is cherry red; an old car
this made evident by the chipping paint
a girl is inside
her eyes speak to me
laying out a path of where they have been
her hair tied up in a mess of curls
the colour complimenting her dark freckled skin
she passes my grey brick house
leaving me sitting on the steps to ponder
where has this beautiful girl come from
will i ever see her again