There I am, I think!
With finely worn shoes and
The exact amount of wrinkles in my
Knuckles cast in bronze.
Just Look! at the way the streetlights and
The trees conspire to sketch feathers on my
Jawbone, as majestically angular as the
Blocks I stand on.
Try to Believe! how many colors there are in the
Tear rolling down that perfect hairline, as
Substantial as a granite butterfly.
While her hard feet roughen the sidewalk and
Scratch into the ground, looking for the
Warmth she's learned is beneath.
While the air she surrounds gets caught on her ribs, and
The wind in her lungs shakes the aged leaves down to the
Bench that tries its best to cradle her through the night.
But Look! there's never been a sun as bright as the
Glow that wisp of hair kisses to that brow.
Such a glow I've never seen,
I'm sure.