Your cheeks are like plums,
fleshy and ruby-pink.
I’ve watched them blossom in the Sun,
although you’ve tried to hide your face behind a mahogany curtain.
I bet the moon is jealous of your luster,
even in darkness.
There is an opalescent quality to you.
Slivers of silver in your hair,
I bet your freckles are arranged like constellations.
Will you ever let someone be so lucky
as to connect the dots?

*June 2012