A blond girl walks in front
and I fall in love
not with how she jgiggles
(that comes later walking home)
because she doesn't
in her neat two short
French braids,
petite flat black shoes
and a rolled up, no
it can't be no one reads
printed media anymore
but it's there, in her purse
as she walks fast
fading into the future
I can't catch up with even if
she doesn't turn left or right
while I'm a centrist so our future
diverges splits into
parallel universes identical
except our minor chord variation
in the Music

I wish I could put into words
The way I still reach for you
In my sleep

I totally adore
How you blend in the crowd
But when we're alone
You become you.


-- Eleanor