R. K. Hart
Comments about R. K. Hart
Finding My Love
She might be the one, who stands outside theatre grand,
Waiting for the wealthy with ribboned violets in hand.
Her clothes hand me downs from a mother long gone,
She may be the one to raise my heart to sing its song.
She could be found by rushing stream pounding clothes on washing rocks,
Or scaling fish surrounded by gulls, boats and docks.
Her perfume might be that of soap or salt on misty air.
This fair maid could cause a young man's heart to dare.