Her fingers

Elegant to me in their length

And, too, in being very pale –

The same bone-china-white

As her shoulders, her shins

Peeking out of that red red dress –

But her fingers,

They hover near one ear

Expressive, I find, of goings-on

In there,

Of thought,

Which leads me to wonder

What she’s thinking.

Wondering what she’s thinking, what’s more,

Draws me in to her world

Such that I feel myself leaning

Against her gray stone wall, feel a chill perhaps

For it is not the sunniest of days,

Feel the leaves ivying around me where

They brush my fair cheek.


am I


I’m thinking of a silly man

Who daydreamt a moment he was

the elegant red red dressed girl

against the gray stone wall

in the photo.

But there’s more than that

More beyond the mere cringe

I’m sure.

No, I’ve lost it I’ve lost it.

And isn’t that just the way

In which fear and doubt

Keep us wrapped in ourselves


To connection.

with thanks, for the prompt, to The Sunday Muse