she is young and still,
restless, not yet wise
but wise enough.
touch her hair, it shines.
it shines for us, like water
thought the sun. like
words shaped into song
and sung. upbeat melody
plainly speaks of youth,
and the sad truth of age.
sneaking on her skin,
you would take her heart
and rob it of a beat,
just a hum though;
a bar perhaps.
for the end is whistling,
as it always must.
and your ear has caught the
tune.
.another one for mbs.
No comments:
Post a Comment