Suzanne,
spin me around
in your little
ballerina patterns,
until my
head twirls
with the world.
~
Her eyes tell the clock's ticking time,
open windows from day to night
Hands crawl to conceal a crime
taking hold, dented can of white
Her lofty limbs carry with grace
paint on left, my hand to the right
Absorbing in my anxious face,
she pulled me in with all her might
As the winds rushed against our skin,
and my feet tapping hurriedly
I felt my lips shape up a grin
Liberation takes toll quickly
for we escaped into a flight.
{ w h o o s h }
s h e
a
w h i r l w i n d ;
r u n
r u n
r u n . . .
