(via purple clover) by Champ Clark
The first time I met her was at a mutual friend’s wedding. We were introduced. I asked her to dance. By the time our three-minute dance was over, I was in love. Deeply, madly in love.
It was the kind of love they write about in songs. That over-the-moon, head-over-heels, what’s-happened-to-me, everything’s-coming-up-roses kind of love. At age 53, I’d never felt anything like it before, though I’d been married and divorced twice.
She was much younger—21 years so, in fact—but we became friends. We spent time together. After a couple of months of this friendship, I told her I loved her, that I was crazy about her, that I couldn’t live without her. This was true. We were outside. It was summer. The moon was out. We kissed for a moment. Then she pulled away. She said she was crazy about me, too, but had a boyfriend who lived in France. I said I didn’t care and kept kissing her. She didn’t stop me, but she no longer gave anything back…
Read more: http://www.purpleclover.com/relationships/4174-three-chords-and-truth/
Every Moment Has A Song 