for donna
As they said their goodnights,
the hesitance tangible in the air as
he said hey, she said what and
brief silence ensued as he mustered
the thought…I like you a lot.
She was smitten, that girl
no bigger than a cricket’s song,
her heart about to burst
the very size of God.
Love comes blind
in a willy-nilly way and
Like seeps in lasting long.
of that girl
She writes in the wee hours of the night
“sleeping is for the dead”, she says and
yet eyes heavy lidded, head nodding,
the little journal slipping from her grasp,
rest she must and does at last as
“go to sleep” he says soft, and
“yes sir” she replies in low
whispers as faint she barely
discerns his last words of
"sweet dream", too late...
that girl is already gone.
