Thirty Days Of Julia: Day Twenty

I never asked outright, but I figured
she was only five years older than me.
In that time, she had married and divorced,
borne a son, spent time on a mental ward
then pieced her life back together. Beside
her, I was a schoolboy in short trousers.
In my head, I kept hearing Rod Stewart's
voice: the morning sun when it's in your face...
Yet I saw the sunrise in the dawn-pink
curvature of her lips, lit by the blue-
sky perfection of her eyes. Her freckled
arms like autumn trees, dappled by the bloom
of frost. Her hair a cascade of russet
leaves. Skin cool as clouds. As my appraisal.