I'd learn the rhythms of her heels
As she rolls her shoulders back
And sneers all the way,
Down the lobby.
If I reached a little farther,
I would find more of the beads
That she left in her purse
The beads from her
Old friends.
I have the worst habits,
And she has them,
But we're not the same - no, we're not even close and her beads are much bigger than mine.
Mine are easier to lose,
To forget.
No comments:
Post a Comment