Her

Her hair was swept to the left

The ends gently brushed her shoulder.

Her eyes the warmest of browns

Invited me into the

Corners of her generous smile.

She held her body with strength,

And smelled like the garlic and spices

Of the kitchen she worked in.

Nervously I would steal a glance

From behind my glass of savingnon blanc

And smile too eagerly in hopes

That she would lean closer

Letting her earrings bobble in motion.

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