Friday, February 05, 2016

Maybe ...


Maybe ...

Maybe it was her style
        maybe her slightly crooked smile
                maybe her worried brow every once in a while.

Maybe it was her bright eyes,
        stars flickering in the morning skies,
                still radiant long after morning's sunrise.

Maybe it was every kind word,
        how she made me feel so self-assured,
                when all the world around me seemed quite completely absurd.

Maybe it was her determination,
        maybe her somewhat coy look of invitation,
                when her smile and wink invited a little more than just flirtation.

Maybe it was how she seemed to drift into my day,
        especially when I had surely lost my way,
                and her heart offered me a quiet place to stay.

Maybe it was just the dance of chance,
        that locked me in a lover's trance,
                or maybe it was the simple unravelling of a sudden, perfect romance.

Maybe it was nothing, nothing at all,
        an empty canvas, a white-washed wall,
                or maybe it was all there is, and far too much for me to recall.

Or maybe, just maybe, it's hard to say,
        it was none of this silly word play,
                maybe it was simply that her love had washed every single maybe away.
 









 








 
 


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