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.