storm

sunshine cloudspicnik His eyes are a meeting
Of the summer blue sky
And a late afternoon storm

She imagines being able
To look into them freely
Across a table
Hovering over her face

Her stomach catches
Breath stutters
When he turns that
Charming broad smile
Her way

His hand slid forward
Fingertips graze her arm
Eyes fluttered up
Realization sparks

The slight crook of her smile
Yes
The answer is yes.

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Posted on September 10, 2010, in Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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