Sometimes I count the way you look at my hair in the wild and green Sunday morning walks at the park. I count the stare.
One blink. Two blink. Three and four.
And when I try to look back, you turn your eyes to the ground. As if the ground has something more important to show you. I blink at your stare in the ground. As if it could tell me why my auburn hair fascinates you so every Sunday morning.
If this poem had a voice, this is what it would sing…
Photo by Kyriakos Christodoulides
Song: Jolene-Dolly Parton