Starstruck. This pastel display
you’ve painted. The sky. Your eyelids.
Your scarves and skirts. You only
penciled me in. Once. I had to
run into you, a splash of water
in your landscape. A speck in your space.
Your carved-right-out-of-citrine face.
Cracks a smile. Cracks my andesine heart.
Dumbstruck. My greeting is an ash grey
storm cloud swirling around you. You
shake me off as soot, then fade away.
© Jennifer Patino (2017)