| wednesday. |
| wide, green, curious eyes painted upon her so softly beneath a soft auburn rainbowed mane i watch her, as she stalks entirely enchanted by some turn of the air - this must be that thing they call beauty she can go anywhere, this vision of free naked and wandering, barely tousled by life a mere interruption of the dream i follow her awhile through the indigo twilight, the star-sprinkled sky - this must be that thing they call love |