A soul that has a body
A mind that has a face
Feet have left a trail
A path I've come to chase
The distance that I tred
Behind seems an unfair race
Yet once and twice again
I fail to keep up pace
Is this the fate I bedded?
The choice is right nor wrong?
Sinking, my feet graze the core
Preluding a swanish song
In the wake of my good sense
I feel as I've had none
Rewriting logs that should have been
Yet all is said and done
A chance. I see. I jump.
I make the same mistake
I fall. I cry. I'm crawling.
Again. No sense I make.

Her eyes look greenest when they are
    looking down from above me
in a sultry, cow-girl style;
Yet her mind seems weakest
  during the night-time.

Her hair is longest when
   it is twined between my fingers,
her body against mine;
And her hands seems gentlest
  when they are tap-tap-tapping against
the window--
  waiting for the car that will never come.

Her body is the most graceful when
dancing
softly, as if afraid to be caught;
   all contour lines in a dress of cotton;
and her heart is most fragile
    while held in my hands
       my fingers, a loosely fitted cage.