We go on holiday.
Again I love her
on the beach in the sunlight of the day.
She had a wardrobe more full than empty,
little kick-off shoes.
I was always around her, as she was me.
In the summertime of our days,
in the sunshine behind your summer shades.
Some girls remind me of girls I’ve known before.
Everyone has a way of escaping,
a sense of longing.
Every woman I know
watches the men passing.
In my sadness I don’t notice many things.
Someone goes by
and there’s that perfume.