Just a Girl

In the summer of fifty-nine
she was thin and frail;
not brown, yet not quite olive.

She stood ankle deep
in the dust of summer
as the convoy churned the
dry roadbed into a huge
red cloud.

Late afternoon sun,
filtering through the
suspended dust,
enclosed her completely
in a halo of lavender and orange.

She was motionless,
peering into the haze with
eyes so intensely black,
they seemed to cut two small
tunnels through the
darkening cloud.

Hair, curly and black as her
eyes was matted close to
her head; her right arm casually
held a crudely constructed
crutch....and then she smiled.

At that very instant i loved her.
Her name?  I cannot say.
She was just a girl.

Patrick Hubauer

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