Poetry by Irving Greenfield...

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A Little Bit In Love

Sometimes I see her on a train or bus,

not the same one.

But always with those black, blue or green eyes,

at the young man alongside of her.

Her hands flying through the air,

dipping,

then wing up,

palms out to make a point.

~~~

And in me a song,

wordless but beautiful,

a melody from the past,

when we were young;

and your green eyes were filled with dancing light,

and your hands took flight.

~~~