A stray stand of hair caught between my fingers
purple and black, coarse from dye
a second trapped in time yet gone too soon
she left on a plane, traveled thousands of miles away
slipping through like sand in an hourglass
I lost her, I found her, I lose her again
time passes far too fast and in these fleeting moments
there's never enough time for me to worship her
hands clasp in prayer devoted to her
and many wonder why I'd spend my time like this
devoting such attentions to a woman such as she
who some may consider wasted and worn
but such an energy radiates from her resilient spirit
in her flawed human shell I find divine perfection
#69
(I don't think I'm that good at dedications & it hardly does her justice, but I wanted to do something...)
Copyright 2004 Nightingale
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