thoughts have been put to rest
like worn out memories
that have become whole.
never knew them or you -
without the presence of strangeness
we've become friends.
it was the month when my lines
got longer and my simile's softer.
it was the week that
the city's blustery breezes blew about us
searching for someplace to go,
while i walked the straight and narrow,
fleet-footed in bunion filled shoes -
your worn shoes (except for cute dimples)
as i sat thinking
looking for your touch.
that day, as your chin rested on your arm
i glimpsed the sunlight
smile into your wide eyes
and the counter top.
then going away - away was where i was going
when the clarity in my heart
and the scars on your hands stopped me.
Your beauty, which is unseen by regular eyes,
is like the reflection of an African violet -
beautiful and unimposing.