Wednesday, January 26, 2011


for Gigi Lorico

She loves how your hair coils
and sticks to the skin
of your sweaty nape,
forming intricate patterns
of rings and waves.

Your skin, pale and soft,
Reminding her of the clouds you watch
drifting across the skies,
like how dreams move to and fro your mind.

Dreams not only of gold and mansions
And other worldly possessions,
But of greener pastures, clear streams;
A peaceful scene.

Dreams; things you were once hopeful for,
But wistfully passed along to her
All through the toil
Of sapping pellets of sweat

from your skin,
on your nape,
below your scruffy bun,
now visible to her eyes.

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