I saw a pretty face today
with specks of cinnamon
light-speckled 'cross pink cheeks and nose,
a dimple in the chin.

A hint of mirth in clear blue eyes,
two impish lips that smiled,
convinced me I'd spun back in time,
to when I was a child.

My fourteenth summer Grandpa said,
"Pete, come and stay with me.
There's heaps of fish in Donner Lake
and you can water ski."

His rustic cabin overlooked
an isolated cove,
a rocky beach and floating dock.
I couldn't wait to rove.

My first day there I grabbed a rod
and scampered to the pier.
T'was early dawn, I half awake
forgot most all my gear.

Tossed out a line, then squatted on
the weather-beaten wood.
"You'll catch no bass without some bait.
An empty hook's no good."

The girl who spoke grinned like an elf
and sauntered up to me.
"I'm Jaime from across the cove,
and who, bud, might you be?"

Her fingers stroked a flaxen braid
which she swished like a quirt.
Though it was warming fast that morn,
she wore a long-tailed shirt.

She was about as old as me.
Those freckles awf'ly cute.
Revealed through rips in faded jeans
a hot pink bathing suit.

"Them fish don't bite when sun is out.
They nibble where there's shade.
And worms don't work. Grasshoppers do
if dipped in marmalade.

"You got a suit? The lake's real warm.
I'm guessing you can swim.
I know a spot where there's a rope
that's dangling from a limb.

"And later on if you're still game
we'll fish in my canoe.
A mess of small-mouth bass lurk down
in Breckinridge's Slough."

We'd only met, but I soon knew
I'd made a true-blue friend.
From that day we did everything,
good pals till summer's end.

We never bickered, mostly laughed
and chatted constantly.
The one time Jaime hurt my pride
we made up instantly.

Her birthday was in mid-July.
We partied on her dock.
I waited till our folks went in.
"You wanna take a walk?"

"Sure, Petey, where you want to go?
The lake or up the road?
That crazy moon that's way up there
looks like it might explode."

We hiked the road, not very far,
before I said, "Hey, stop!
I want--I want to give you this.
Don't like it we can swap."

"The crankbait lure! Your lucky one!
Oh, Pete, you'd give me this?"
She grabbed my shirt and pulled me close,
then gave me one sweet kiss.

I might have gasped or even sighed
and quickly shut my eyes.
"One teensy kiss and you want more.
What is it with you guys?"

"Heck, no! I'm not like that!" I cried.
"You need to understand.
I've never kissed a girl before.
Not even held her hand."

She stared at me, then shook her head.
"My Pete has never sinned?"
I dropped my eyes, I know I blushed,
while Jaime crowed and grinned.

Next morning we were pals again,
canoeing on the lake.
No words expressed, our bond renewed
by just a firm hand shake.

All summer long we swam and fished,
but good things always end.
"Oh, I'll come back next year, Jaime,
for you are my best friend!"

I DID return. Gramps said, "She's gone.
Where to I am not sure.
Her parents split. The house was sold.
But, Pete, she left this lure."

I found no note inside the box,
and yet I had to grin.
For this was HER, a legacy
of all we'd done and been.

Some girls we never can forget
though decades may fly by.
When Jaime haunts my reveries,
I'll blush or laugh or sigh.

I often wonder what if we
had met a few years hence.
Could she have loved an older Pete,
or would we stay just friends?