Fugitives
A downpour behind her eyes;
sparkling at me she stood as witness to the affliction I divide.
A breeze interjected between us,
clinging to her dress
picking up every strand of hair fighting to have it free and I stood helpless;
lost in a momentary haze transported to days gone by,
marked by child like giggles emerging from a broken smile.
“She always did have the saddest eyes”; I remember thinking, before I crumbled to my knees.
“Run away with me” – I begged.
Copyright © Lezel Van Den Berg | Year Posted 2015
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