Saturday Clothes II

September chill, she pulls her blue coat close.
Dim gold of morning light, blue dress, white stockings.
Patent leather shoes. Her heart races at the thought of him.
The morning sun haloes her flaxen head.
Saturday, cool of autumn, chill of another year passing on.
The clear, cold waters of the creek running through the park.
They will sit together, and hold hands, and the trees will bleed.
They will kiss softly, tenderly, still sweet though almost grown.
The swing set as morning burns away and the sun grows so bright.
Still cool, 9 minutes out, though the light can show us the way.
She will sit and smile as he pushes her up towards the clouds.
They’re both dressed so fine before summer comes, and with it loss.
They will hold hands as he walks her home on a wide, tree lined street.
Wars burn heaven down in the afternoon, and desire rebuilds it at night.
A hug, and she will kiss his cheek, and then his brow, blue eyes like stars.
He will smile, and blush, and he will watch her go inside, everything perfect.
It has happend before. It will happen again. Until the end of time.

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