The girl with the leopard pants.

The sound of numbers echoes across the room, unfazed she remains.

Dreaming of hills and lakes and memories of old lovers in vain. 

She steals the light from the walls, or the rays just journey to her face,

Slightly pertubed with gazes inevitably facing her stead, marks her place.

 

The girl with the leopard pants, stared starry-eyed towards the shed,

Like a fairytale come alive, through crimson stories on orchid beds,

Her lips curled as she greeted the room, my gaze interred in hers,

She blushed, her palms drizzled on my hold, the vision went blur.

 

Shared stories with songs and laughter, and failed attempts at dance,

And ice cubes with pink lemonade, and a few stolen glance.

In argument, her temper tried to rise, but melted with a slight caress,

Through aching shoulders and naughty arms, the distance grew less.

 

The girl with the leopard pants, saw the same broken dreams,

With the sound of drums and bass, and a liking for silly memes,

Few moments of surrender, an eternity and a promise of it all,

With a farewell towards the beginning, answering a new call.

 

Across borders I'll find you home, through rhymes and chants,

To my girl with the leopard pants.