May 17, 1996.
To the girl in the yellow dress.
Dear Stranger,
I saw you the first time
In the graveyard,
on a Wednesday morning.I remember the day perfectly;
You wore a dress of bright, sunflower yellow
Crimson hair let loose on your left shoulder.It was unusually sunny that day,
But it didn't matter, for
It contrasted perfectly with you.
Your grasp held three, perfectly bloomed
Gigantic white roses,And I watched carefully as you placed
Each on three graves, your touch as
gentle as cool wind on a hot, sweaty day.
The roses looked like clouds,
Plucked from the sky by your dainty left hand,I yearned to smell them,
And hopefully not get pricked by a thorn.
You knelt down and touched the surfaceOf each grave, one by one,
Mumbling softly under your breath, inaudible.
I didn't seem to mind watching your
Rosy pink lips move in synch with each letter you spoke.It looked rather odd, when such an angel like you
Floated amongst the dead souls,
Yet you did your magic, a soft tap of your wand,
And suddenly, like black and white,
you made it look beautiful.There was no doubt, I was in love with you
With every step you took, I took one too.
I wanted to say something to you, anything at all;Something funny, that would hopefully make you laugh.
But here I was, glued to my ground,
Staring in awe as you walked among the grey,Like a droplet of sunshine, you were
now slowly, drifting away.
I wrote this to you, so maybe one day, we could talk,To tell you how beautiful you are, my sunshine,
And maybe, just maybe, make you laugh.I leave this here, beside the
withered white rose, in the graveyard,
awaiting your return.Your admirer.
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