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.