Vincent P. Russo, Jr.
And the big brass bands come parading down the street.
Not with stately marching tempos, but with lively swaying beat.
Not with the soft quietness of the rose in some dim lit rendezvous,
But with the brashness of the marigold in orange and yellow hue.
She came running, skipping, bouncing into my life today.
My heart had heard her coming two-hundred miles away.