i think about the scent of her hair
how it rests behind her shoulders
how dark and beautiful it is
she keeps it long and safe
the colors don’t change like leaves in autumn
her clothes are shades of black and grey with the occasional hues of red and tan
i’ve never seen her in pink
she’s somewhat of a mystery
her interest vary depending on who she’s dating
when she’s not dating it’s an array of friends and good times
she’s puzzling to me
i can’t quite read her
how i would love to pick at her brain
ask the deep questions and feed my curiosity
her essence stays with me
time has not been able to remove it
her eyes tell a story
a book i have yet to open
The Freedom of Choices 