I met a green-eyed girl beneath the trees
Of Kensington, one summer afternoon--
Enraptured by the sultry August breeze,
That lazily gave way to rising moon.
We spoke at length about our lives and dreams,
Two yankee dreamers caught by London's charm;
We whispered not a word of darker themes,
Or anything of which should cause alarm.
From there, we walked across a city square,
The name of which I cannot quite recall.
Beneath the stars, I brushed aside her hair,
And stole a kiss, the softest of them all.
She disappeared as swiftly as she came,
A green-eyed girl for whom I have no name...
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