Freckles
© 2007 Mark Pearce
I remember freckles
On a sun-skimmed day.
She’d do ‘bout anything
To have them scrubbed away.
They’d show up on her shoulders
And across her nose.
They’d dribble down her legs
And light upon her toes.
“I like ‘em,” I told her
But what did I know?
They shattered her self image
Of a golden glow.
She strenuously avoided
Being bathed by sun.
But I adored her every freckle
And I’d kiss each one.
Though the days of speckled cheeks
And shoulders did not last,
She comes to me when dreaming of my
Freckled past.