8/23/11

Dusty Memory
By Caty McCall


There's something about the way
your hair twists violently
around your face
in the faintest of breezes.
I love how
your petal-pink lips
curl faintly,
fragile
into a smile
whenever your eyes meet mine.
Your voice,
smooth and subtle
drifts lazily to my awaiting ears.
Your smell,
of cinnamon.
Lingers while you hold me.
If only I could pause this moment
Never to fade away.
Blinking,
its already fled.
and fading quickly into
another
Dusty memory.
Lost in the haze of
age and time.
Sometimes I wish
you could still
be
mine.


- - -
I love people and poetry. they are my purpose and my passion.