Brown Eyed Ginger

It was the summer of ’84,

Heat waves dancing on the canyon road.

You were barefoot on the old porch floor,

Laughing like you had no heavy load.

Your ginger hair caught the late-day sun,

And your freckles glowed in evening light.

But what stayed with me when the day was done

Was how your brown eyes saw me just right.

My brown-eyed ginger boy—

You were wild heart, gentle voice,

Found the things I tried to hide,

Pulled them softly into the light—

Oh, my brown-eyed ginger boy.

We’d wander off past the neighbor’s gate,

Down the dusty trail behind the hill.

You’d ask questions no one else would think to say,

And wait for answers, patient and still.

You noticed how I went quiet when

I wasn’t sure of where I belonged—

You’d tap my hand again and again

And tell me quietly, “You’re strong.”

My brown-eyed ginger boy—

You were wild heart, gentle voice,

Found the things I tried to hide,

Pulled them softly into the light—

Oh, my brown-eyed ginger boy.

And though the seasons carried on,

I still return to the things you knew—

How you’d spot my smile before it formed,

And read my thoughts like open truth.

You were the first to make me feel

That calm could live where fear once stayed.

And when you looked at me so real,

It changed the way my heartbeat played.

My brown-eyed ginger boy—

You were wild heart, gentle voice,

Found the things I tried to hide,

Pulled them softly into the light—

Oh, my brown-eyed ginger boy.