Eyelashes
Shawna McGaha
There is a certain curl beneath a golden brow,
a delicate sweep around a soft brown,
that reminds me of a boyish charm.
In quiet moments of reverie,
this hint of feathers lies gently over a creamy cheek,
dusting the skin with sleep's dream.
Upon waking, fluttering open like doves wings,
gives a view of innocence.
In this innocence is a clear hue
that Life's cruel hand has yet to touch,
as if God stole a piece of the sky on a winter day
and hid this treasure beneath this curl.
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