Sharper

Sharper

here she stands

with the dew

drenched grass

painting sparkles on

her roughed

up feet

I wouldn’t call it

standing, though, for

she’s moving all about

the place lost

in her own

world

each connected

movement expresses

some aspect of

her emotion

or more likely something

deeper than that

if you were watching

every fluctuation in

her movement

you never would have

known the

things she can

truly understand

without a thought

I don’t think

the way she

sweetly stepped

could reveal the

place where her

mind resides

though her feet

were planted in the shimmering

grass, something

had taken away

her head

she could still think

clearly

but in a far of manner

thinking only of the things

that don’t get much thought

but yes, her mind,

sharper than the blades of

grass, had gone

and her dancing

told me it

wasn’t coming back