July 2018

Five long months of hope, anxiety and fear.The hope that someday you will spare me a glance,That someday I will be worth your time,That I

Don’t love me for my hair, the times do change,And the braiding may not please you no more.Don’t love me for my hazel eyes, they

I once had a love, an intoxicating and special love.One that appreciated both genuine and wry smiles,A love that saw through the many masks that

I like her hair free, but she keeps it in a pony. Maybe she does not know I do, someday. I like her smile, it