On the Way to the Garden
She was above the average in height,
Some would call her tall.
On the way to the Company Garden we were caught
By a sudden squall.
She wore a fancy maroon dress
Which become thoroughly wet.
Her mascara was washed away.
Yet she wasn’t at all upset.
Her brown eyes came alive
And sparkled with pure fun.
She didn’t mind the wind and rain
Or the fitfut April sun.
She loved the wind in her hair
And the driving flurries of rain.
She didn’t seem to give a damn,
You are never twenty two again.
