My mind swims with thoughts of a pretty brunette,
In her hair she wore a small barrette.
As I walked her to school, I did not have the nerve,
to hold her hand or sit with her on the curb.
Day by day we would walk a little closer,
but if we touched I would lose my composure.
My hand would not leave my pocket,
and my mind would race like a rocket.
I remember the day and did not understand,
why she reached in my pocket and took my hand.
It felt wonderful, as we continued our walk,
secretly hoping, my buddies would not see us and talk.
Days in the second grade are gone forever,
but I will never forget that bold endeavor.
©2010 Hubert C. Crowell