Hair tightly clipped. A curl breaks free,
It swishes and embraces your left eye.
With your left index you flick it off,
Yet it returns back to caress it.
What lover’s fingers combed you?
Parted you and caressed you?
Which love’s lips have kissed you?
Loved you or broke you?
The curl is silent, as is the eye.
My five fingers yearn to touch you,
I want to hold you; embrace
the love out of you, and have you
smile your sweetest smile at me;
The smile that is a gift.
Then I realize, you can’t be you no more,
Someone other already has your love,
your smile, your curl and your eye.
All I can do is stare; at you,your smile, your curl and your eye.