I, looking back at Me
with green suspicion, said,
“If what will be tomorrow
presently leaves the tongue and touches the ear,
will a younger fist split a longer-lived lip?”
A sharp nod from Me.
“As it should be,” I said,
moving forward without looking back,
letting Me live
and grow into who I am
No Words Needed, by Magic Love Crow
Stacy paints pure magic.