10/11/2021
She loves like the scent of petrichor.
Intoxicating but light,
Gently perfumed by touches of morning
With words that flutter like
Filters of dawn between leaves.
Her laugh a spare note
Aloft a midsummers gale,
Blithe and untroubled.
Faithfully at ease wherever
The skys may take her.
Her eyes ripple in hues of honey,
Like heavy breaths let loose
After the soothe of strong coffee,
mesmeric and bold
and raveled carelessly of youth.
Her gaze like slow dances,
Wrote across the sky,
Twinkling softly to the sounds
Of old stereos
And first glances upon marble floors.
Her smile,
Like strokes of silk upon bare skin
Like plays of Shakespeare
And sculpting of Michelangelo
bound by the crackle of soft flame
And let loose like Friday sunsets.
- Isa Ul-Hassan
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