I used to call you Suzy Q. You with your silky brown hair and eyes to match. We were silly teens with endless energy, those colorful dreams. Man, could we dream? Barefoot at the pool or riding around with the sunroof back and the radio at full volume. We were fearless, happy, and bold, living, with our eyes open wide. No regrets.
Then I moved away. Time passed us by, didn’t it? There were some disagreements over the years quite a few tears. We grew apart. November turned into June and June turned into December. The snow fell hard, fast and everything iced over.
But Spring always comes, doesn’t it?
I’ll roll the sunroof back and switch on the radio. There are days, when “Brown Eyed Girl,” will play, and I see you. I can see you standing beneath the Georgia Moon with the cherry balm, cut-off shorts, those braids in your hair.
I smile.
For, in that moment, we are twenty again, Suzy Q.
And we are free.
Then I moved away. Time passed us by, didn’t it? There were some disagreements over the years quite a few tears. We grew apart. November turned into June and June turned into December. The snow fell hard, fast and everything iced over.
But Spring always comes, doesn’t it?
I’ll roll the sunroof back and switch on the radio. There are days, when “Brown Eyed Girl,” will play, and I see you. I can see you standing beneath the Georgia Moon with the cherry balm, cut-off shorts, those braids in your hair.
I smile.
For, in that moment, we are twenty again, Suzy Q.
And we are free.
