And there she is.
In an oversized blue sweater
with her unpainted fingertips
barely peeking through the sleeves.
Her movements are very quick
to get her ponytail tied,
and done with perfection
from nothing but memory.
There isn't a single flashy thing,
not even a pair of earrings.
There's not a dab of makeup,
just beautiful, wholesome skin.
She motions me over
and I realized then,
that she was mine -
and screamed of beauty.
1 comment:
oh! oh! oh! To be loved by you.
(If your writing is who you are.)
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