Brown hair cascades over her shoulders,
like water spilling off a steamboat wheel
her tight striped shirt hugs her,
like her future husband will
her green eyes, murky and mysterious,
like a lazy Louisiana stretch of river
With tiny hands she furiously
jots notes (Robert Fulton-inventor of steamboat)
And now she’s standing on the deck
hair waltzing with the wind,
white dress billowing around her knees.
She smiles, the spray jumps up around her,
the dry sun twinkles off the droplets.
Her wide brimmed sun hat
suddenly is soaring through the sky,
running away along the river.
She laughs because she is happy,
I laugh because I am happy,
the steam streaming behind us.
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