In Idaho, some twenty-years ago, I chanced upon a moldy, old high school beau,
A forest ranger in rubber gumboots with forty-something, middle-aged spread
(Acknowledging old girl friends from more than a while ago engenders dread)
with yellow hair graying, and eyes no longer that exact shade of periwinkle blue.
For time does cloud the vision of old flames, for I’m surely likewise not the same.
His heart didn’t skip a beat; he didn’t hear me call his name and sounded retreat.
Oh YES!!! I think this is my favorite poem so far today 🙂 You have the best use of “spread” of anybody who tried this challenge, hand’s down! Great assonance in the lead–it drew me right in. It’s playful, but bittersweet too….