She In Her Sundress

I remember the sundress she wore
It was a floral explosion of reds, oranges and blue-violets
It wasn't stylish by any stretch of the word
(Or of fabric, for that matter);
Nor was it particularly memorable in and of itself
But, man, what an impact it had on me!
It was just the right cut for her,
Showing enough of her sun-kissed skin
To place her stance somewhere smack dab
In the middle of demure and unforgettable
She was pure beauty
A beauty that cut so deeply into my psyche
That the image is firmly burned into my mind's eye;
To forget that image would be criminal.
And that smile--
Boy, what a smile!
It's the smile about which poets have written for millenia
A smile for the ages, one would even venture to declare
It happens so naturally for her, entirely instinctive
And the smile she gave me that day
Would haunt me forever.