So young, so youngHer hair was blue in the moonlight the first time he met her
With flecks of red in the light from the bonfire
Two hearts meeting
Her hair was almost green in the fluorescent glow of the library
All matted and tangled from a long night of studying
Ace the test
Write the paper
Her hair was a brilliant gold under the summer sun
The vivid blue complementing the translucent tresses
She looks back at him
So young, so young
The harsh lights of the hospital
Her hair gone
Wrought IronThat little corner was his second home. He knew the tiny space well: the wrought iron fence, intricately sculpted, the little coffee shop behind him, the yellowing grass between the sidewalk and the curb. The smells, he knew them as well: the coffee, freshly brewed, the hot scones and pastries. These made his stomach growl and grumble beneath the worn black and white striped shirt. The slightly chilly wind, a reminder of the coming winter months, cut through the warm air. And the sounds cars roaring past, people talking on their cell phones. He seemed to be one of the few that weren't adding to the noise. Mimes don't make sounds.
Ah, there she was again. The girl in the dark sunglasses, her hair smooth, her walk hesitant. What was she afraid of?
He tipped his hat to her as she walked past. No response. Again. But he knew she'd be back in a few minutes