Beautiful

Beautiful

It is January

and so she counts the days

Three before the deepest sleep

Safe

with you

for awhile

she believes...

Stepping into an early darkness 

 waiting in the parking lot

aching

She doesn't want to drive away

Pausing for a rest

within the emptiness

She is tired

and may not survive 

the days in between

"Describe my face."

"Tell me what you see," you encourage

but the words do not come 

Your eyes; 

the soft color of moss growing along the roots of forest trees in the spring

Your mouth; 

crookedly amused or set in a straight line...

Love 

makes everyone extraordinarily beautiful

She wanted to tell you

Beautiful...

Angela Minard 2016©