Fumbling through his pockets
Sore fingers grasping wildly
He procures his kerchief
Dabs the edges, pats them dry
And the wind blows softly
Ruffles her strong hair
Tossed waves of auburn
Gentle to see
Sun-lit skin, gilded bold
Broken never, smoothness
Fashioned hands, slender fingers
Burgundy eyes, deep and deeper
And the old form sat ragged
Tears spilling onto yellowed photos
"I'll see you soon, I'll see you soon,
My young, young love."