motion. | completed

minus forty-nine

these moments take their chances,
drifting lazily
between wide-open eyes,
wary, watching each other
with curious interest.

your eyes, beautiful
blue. peeking up, occasionally
between the pages of your leathery
worn book;
your hands folded around the
cover like doves in the
icy cold; almost ivory, awash with dusk.

i stop myself from wondering
how many, before,
have those hands touched? how
many have those eyes seen?
now they watch me warily,
lazy smile playing on those diamond
lips.

i hide again; i know
you continue to watch me, eyes unwavering,
stare turned solid by
evening air. your eyes like feather
touches on my shoulders.

fly away with me,
now.