The Way She Looks at Me

Today, she looks into me with her mysterious eyes inlaid like green marbles in her royal velvet grey as if she’s known me for forever and eternity,

At other times she looks at me as if I’m a stranger from a strange land, a nomadic invader from the desert encroaching her space, Stepping off my camel into the kitchen, Spilling orange sand from my boots wherever I step,

The same way i look into the mirror on a Monday morning facing another week,
Or melt into the ocher floor that is terrazzo folding myself into the glass mixed with concrete,
And, somehow feel so much better there, more free in that space.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, April, 2017

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