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The colors of your hair
burnt and tarnished brown
wrapped up in curls and tendrils
like oak branches twisted in a crown

My gaze I could not hinder
the vitality in your stare
heavy durable and textured
I'm irrevocably hooked and snared

The shades of your skin
flush rustic patterns dance
smooth but rugged finish
the mere possibility of a chance

If only once to touch and finger
through your oak branch hair
to brush against the oaken leather
exposed skin left out and bare

Across an expanse I can admire
in a small fleeting instance
As the light shifts your colors
worshiping forever from a distance
I messaged with words that sound written down,
they were,
got a new courage that has been found,
I didnt trail off, but the world lost it's sound,
who knew?
I guess you would had to have if it really made sense,
trying to appreciate his recompense,
It's cloudy and I hear the rhymes,
but that doesnt take care of all the I'm fines,
I hear it and want to hug you,
so wrapping in written syllables,
I try to believe in miracles,
hoping that you can see the prayers coming out of my head,
when you saw my smile instead,
calling me your best friend,
Sending songs you'll forget,
but I bet you'll feel at home,
so I'll send them along with a phone,
full of mysteries that will plague us both.
Don't dare to say you miss me the most,
because I raise my coffee in toast,
that you'll be happy tomorrow,
and at least smile today,
spoken with fiery words in sentences that arent coherent,
So i guess I'll tuck in my shirt to see that smirk,
and remain in adherence,
as my poem fades away,
and I'll sign off with a tackle and a dance,
and thank God again for poetic miles,
and happenstance.

I hope you feel better.

— The End —