Coleen

Coleen I hear your voice through the crowded halls, the clack, clack of your footsteps on the tiles. Clear and vibrant full of volume and assurance your words pierce the space, as a chirping bird full of buoyant jubilation, animated at finding a nest of food. All webbed together in a tiny frame with the cut of the locks all in their place, with rain-drop eyes flashing and lips that crease to the cut of your chin, thin and sublimely colored All chatter and congestion at the jam of your door, the office of calls and the called and those waiting to be mauled by the quick witted tongue that you use as a sword keeping you ever safe in your ward 6/2012