Vanilla
She seemed a bit pale
Not one you would turn to watch
Or linger on
Just simple
Almost hollow blue eyes
Wandering about
Searching
Her hair
A misty cloud
Adrift on her head
Her smile
A whispered sadness
Hiding
Beneath an angular nose
Her lips thin
Yet
Somehow not
They called her “Vanilla”
For they lacked
An eye for passion
Sensed no fire
Ignored the lure of hollow blues
The mystery of the misty cloud
Could not hear the whispered sadness
Nor the promise of her thin lips
Copyright © John Lawless | Year Posted 2023
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