I call him
We talk...

The dark, hard floor
The silent midnight hue...

Anyone else's glance would say
"Here is a street of peace...

L(a
le...

Calm graceful silent smooth
unassuming philosophical self-sustaining...

Depths of water, warm and clear
Are two sweet eyes I hold so dear...

Millions upon millions of infinitely small pieces
Of sharpened harsh glass, bitter and fragile...

Finally free
To be myself...

Each day I wait for our class to begin
Waiting, counting the minutes till I can see him...

I've felt the shaking earth tremor and quake
Seen great cathedrals topple and fall...

Lonely and outcast from her peers she stands
With a pen and a notebook of paper in hand...

Gentle as butterflies in spring,
Intoxicating as the richest smells...