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her brown curly hair longing in my mind
her brown curly hair longing in my mind.
in a hall of picture frames of memories
brushed with painted thoughts that fade like ink to
the day.
a stroke for each strand, perfect.
dark skinned soaking sun like the earth
sweet and shinning
like dusk before night
her eyes still.
tinted curiosity, Deadpanned in paint.
We fight for place and fall farther
Each day is a minuscule of change
un noticeable, then its late.
Chance is odds at all extremes, infinity
not yet random.
Time loses shift
of a faltered change, turning back to see
what stayed, or fell through the crack in
happen.
Happens to happen, following nothing,
but wrap, wrapped around on a path traveled ten times
over....blind folded, backwards, tramping the trench.
Darren J
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