My Brown-Haired Boy

It was windy and cold, Walking in the streets so old. When he saved me, A brown-haired boy. He grasped my hand as I stumbled blindly, Lost and unsure of were I was. He rubbed my hands to keep them warm And carried me when I got weak. When we were in front of my house, He set me down. The boy bid me goodbye, And went on down the road. My family held me close, As I told my story. I kept thinking, pondering, About that brown-haired boy. Three months later, I was lost, again, Lost in my thoughts, Confused, as I walked to school. It was when I saw him again, That I found myself. It was him waving that brought me back, And his warm hand holding my cold one. His voice sent shivers up my spine, And his hands made me quiver, But his words were sweet, And his eyes soft. Five years later, turning 20, Holding hands with my brown-haired boy. I finally knew were I was, Thanks to my brown-haired boy. His sweet voice whispered through the wind, As we walked along the sandy road. The sandy, windy road he found me on, Holding me close again. He iridescent green eyes, Staring into mine, Holding me close, Me and my brown-haired boy