She strolled in breezy with lots of snaz,
Her blue jeans faded
Her hoodie shiraz.
Her hair held a tint like the evening sky
And was bound by a band in a bob behind.
It was looser in front, making hearts race,
Brushing her cheeks, framing her face.

One day, her top was lip-stick red,
Twisted from a golden tube,
Her glasses lustrous tortiseshell,
Like a gentle girl's at school;
A single, purple barette lay
Across the river of her hair,
Like a gleaming bridge to take us
To salvation from despair.

When chocolate-caramel hair flowed down
On shoulders creamy white,
She wore her tiger sunglasses
And scoop-neck purple striped.
Her hair was curled on the ends,
She fluffed it with her fingers,
Her earring trembled very slightly--
The memory still lingers.

Some days our group just couldn't find
A bit of common ground,
But in tweed,
We all agreed...
She really went to town.