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Cirrus Wisps of Cerulean
by Lulu AlderYou looked distant for a moment, and I thought you had forgotten the question
so I repeated again
What is pretty?
This time more timidly,
hesitant that maybe it was just too silly to deserve an answer.
But then you locked eyes with me,
and I ignored the reflections of cirrus wisps
that danced in your lenses
so that I could memorize the flecks of gold sprinkled in your irises.
Pretty is you
in the moment that your tears stop and your nose scrunches up in a laugh.
Pretty is you.
06/30/2005 Posted on 06/30/2005
Copyright © 2024 Lulu Alder
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 07/01/05 at 03:31 PM This is a spectacular scene painted with the words of a true romantic. The images are hazy like a summer day that lends itself to flights of fantasy and day dreams. Great read. |
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