My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

I formulate infinity stored deep inside of me…

Jan 30

Sometimes all he sees is her

Sometimes all he sees is her, all warm brown eyes, curly brown hair.

She’s behind his eyes when he closes them to fall asleep at night, she’s in his head when he wakes in the morning.

He sees her in little things, beautiful things. She’s sun shining through bright green tree leaves, she’s a pretty teal butterfly fluttering nowhere in particular.

He sees her when the sky shifts from pure blue to black infinity. She’s so right there, in the silvery full moon, in the brightest stars.

This woman, so dear to him, he sees her in raindrops bouncing off a city sidewalk. Drops splitting into drops, splitting into drops, tiny spheres of water with rainbows inside. She’s with him, even when she’s not.

Sometimes all he sees is her.


3 Comments so far

  1. Tim January 30th, 2010 7:17 am

    Nice, Mike

  2. Carin Channing January 31st, 2010 1:04 am

    This is beautiful. You describe something that is very familiar. The person is like a hologram, like those rain drops you describe. In every slice of everything, the same. Love. I’m glad this popped up on my twitter. God bless. cc

  3. Beverly January 31st, 2010 3:46 pm

    I love what you did with this. It’s very sweet. 🙂

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