A  cognoscente of men
Watched intently
As a marching group
Of Citadel cadets
Who had
Worked up a sweat
In the Carolina sun
Marched by
Those emerald eyes
Under a cap brim
Solemn yet alive
Could wake up a desire
In the meekest soul
Imagine like a wick
Burning brightly
Those eyes
Freed from the frugal
Role of cadet
Burning with desire
Smoldering hot
Like a wildfire
Out of control

9-7-03
Laura R