Sandy, with her whispy/tawny hair;
Sandy, light and lithe, and dancing everywhere;
Sandy, like an easy western breeze,
Laughing like a puff-cloud o’er the seas.
A storm? A powerful, wrenching storm?
Oh, no. These namers are out of form.
Sandra, now, with black-brown smoldering eyes;
Sandra, sullen, stubborn, yet seeming wise;
Sandra, jealous, temper bursting out,
Shouting, hurling curses all about!
Sandra has swept boiling from the sea!
Sandy winks, and skips away with me.