Glyphs
Over coffee, her voice is warmer than usual.
With her drink beside her small, delicate hands,
Theres a glitter in her eyes I nearly forgot about.
A softness to those irises that
Make them more beautiful than any flower,
Deeper than any inkwell.
She asks me what Im thinking about,
And I say, Nothing.
She looks away,
And I keep gazing where her eyes just were.
Every conversation becomes a challenge
To read those endless eyes
And see if the curved, inviting glyphs
Match those so plainly shown in mine.













Comments
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Johannes factotum.
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