L

The beauty is every where, much of a cure
beauty like lines on a canvas art
every curve freckle and dimple so pure
lashes like lines leading to the heart

I instill the features, the hook at the edge of her mouth
feeling like the streaked lines of rain
following boarders and edges north and south
pounding not like butterflies but war drums to the silent vein

the warm morning light casts soft shadows
eyes like stain glass windows with movement
apparent movement but much to clouded to see in
Im outside like a need with held, never spent

Every look and expression so troubled but clean
to hold and comfort is like a warm winters dream.

Loren C.