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       “She’s a Simple Girl”
She was a bit,
Of a Tom boy,
But not,
In the way,
You might think.
She wore,
Plain and simple,
Trying to hide,
The natural lines,
Of her body,
Camouflaging it behind,
Cuts of fabric,
That look like they,
Were meant for a boy.
But it didn’t,
Really matter,
What she hung,
Over her petite,
Slender frame,
Because with every,
Ever so slight,
You could see,
She was a woman.
The act of bending,
To pick up,
A cup of coffee,
Stretching out,
To reach,
A top shelf,
Even from a distance,
Her simple movements,
Betrayed her.
Her plain clothes,
Still grabbed hold,
Of her body,
Creating lines,
Of beauty,
That seemed,
Even more,
Coming in,
Such an uncommon,
Even in a,
Crowed room,
A sea full of faces,
You’re scanning,
Adventurous eyes,
Would be stopped,
With just a,
Quick glance,
When they came across,
Her face,
And without,
Any kind of,
Conscious effort,
You’d find yourself,
Closer to her,
Your eyes,
Never letting go,
Afraid to even blink,
In fear of losing,
That captured image,
Of her.
And when you,
Finally got close enough,
To hear her speak,
You’d be enthralled,
With every word,
She spoke,
Each sentence,
Tying into the last,
With such brilliant,
You couldn’t wait,
For the next word,
To fall.
You would find yourself,
Mixed in,
Amongst the others,
Circled around her,
Hoping for her,
Mere gaze,
To be cast,
A pond you.
But as her sentences,
Come to an end,
And she becomes,
Of this pocket,
Of admirers,
She’d start to blush,
And try to escape,
To a back corner,
Of the room,
Embarrassed by,
All the attention,
She was generating,
With just her,
Simple conversation,
With a friend.
She liked to spend,
Her limited free time,
It didn’t really matter,
Or season,
Or time,
She would tell you,
In simple words,
The beauty of nature,
Was as basic,
As beauty gets.
And you would,
Look at her,
As she walks,
And wonder,
How this woman,
This simple girl,
Had become,
So Damn Complex…
       Tom Allen…04-29-2017…