Morning trek air was clear sun hit red Spanish tiles.. Hollywood Hills wake up as I walk my miles.. images come to mind.. long ago or now.. decorate love and hate.. to run my thinking plow..
Did not notice at first so much felt so right.. no oppression.. stress or worry.. creatures of the night.. I felt her turned to see.. blond she broke a smile.. barefoot in a short dress.. damn.. she had a style..
Wow! mind said in my head as body did adjust.. to latest wonder of my world.. ‘do it now or bust’.. she moved like an Indian.. stealthy as a cat.. at fifty feet I felt some heat.. no denying that..
We took off in a dream walked every hillside trail.. up and down we even found maps to the ‘holy grail’.. lay in passion.. spoke art.. romance and law.. forgotten in passion times.. we lay with what we saw..
Time we spent together.. a play we performed.. something true a lovers due.. before the coming storm.. back down to the city.. a sometimes land of fools.. from a clear love morning.. at a clear love school..
Sit each day with my guitar.. singing to the day.. to love mercy memories things each livelong day.. simple beauty of a girl.. curves.. her peasant dress.. memory of heart I know but could never guess..
When I first saw her.. heart warmed with her smile.. gotta say my brothers.. ‘Yeah.. she had a style’..
One of many wonderful mornings.. felt.. sometimes there when real-time is not as ‘wonderful’.. Peace Tony