The Girl

A soft vibrant nymph,
gently breathing through lips sweet.
Head peeked out at a fast pace,
scarf dripping from her hair.
Pink arm,
petting a blossom that matched her
cheeks.
Would that I could take
a stance with her,
Learn her joyous dance from her.
She smiles on what is good,
comforts all that should be.
A kind word, a girlish blush,
an innocence beyond the common reckoning;
Sneered upon by many,
yet coveted by all.

For Ashley

A Solitary hand,
coaxing the musty reverberations of wood.
An enlightened soul,
surfacing in a plaintive melody.
Sustaining, now staccatto, always swaying,
swaying to the rhythm of a poet's heartbeat.
Oh, the Solitary Hand,
bravely wielding this instrument
of temporary death.