Kimberly

many faces, mavourneen,
traces of you having
been to many places,
your hair shorter,
redder,
but those eyes --
los ojos --
always looking,
searching;
they can pierce
the veiled looks
of a thousand thousand nights,
knowing
which secrets to keep
and which ones to lay bare,
spread out on
the crisp, plain white sheets
that cover the bed of life,
the bed of days and nights
of longing,
of your eyes,
finding me.



April 5, 2009, for Kimberly (no surprise there, eh?).

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.