Alan L. Winters
Her necklace was strung with large wood beads
In all the colors of the rainbow.
Her hair with flower, only stringy;
Tattered jeans, sandals and a tie-dyed T-shirt
Completed her attire.
I saw her from a distance
Among a handful of airport passengers
And heard of speak of peace, nuclear disarmament and free love…
I think she emphasized free love.
Twenty years before
I could have been her brother, her lover, and her friend.
But she was far too young,
An “Xer” with a past life
Or a “boomer” born too late.
Like a filament from my past
Barely hanging on to me,
The way it could have been
And the way it still can be.
©Copyright December 1983 by Alan L. Winters
Author’s Note: When I first started in the Post Office I met this young woman of about 20. I was 33. She looked for all-the-world like a hippie suspended in time; out of fashion in 1983. I’ve used poetic license regarding the airport scene.