She,
A girl with a face so familiar,
It brings me back to days,
When theater was a thing.
Hair,
Shines,
Moves,
Like the nicest river.
Body,
Delicate,
Like a halfway grown tree,
But stands as strong,
Held the world by bare feet.
Warmth,
Is a traveler,
Dancing on her skin,
They come and go.
But her palms,
Are what I held on to,
When I long for,
Something cold.
Jan 13, 2017
Jan 13, 2017 at 1:47 AM UTC
She,
A girl with a face so familiar,
It brings me back to days,
When theater was a thing.
Hair,
Shines,
Moves,
Like the nicest river.
Body,
Delicate,
Like a halfway grown tree,
But stands as strong,
Held the world by bare feet.
Warmth,
Is a traveler,
Dancing on her skin,
They come and go.
But her palms,
Are what I held on to,
When I long for,
Something cold.
A poem for a beautiful close friend of mine, Moni.
