Leaning on the counter
Your smile like a tear
Draws a line to your heart
And thrums in my ear
Drums soft, but I hear
You stand as you straighten
Fingers flow to your hair
A wave off the sea
Almost holy and rare
Lingers slowly as prayer
You move with a purpose
With a dancer’s sweet grace
Your hands touch the surface
My eyes on your face
My eyes keep your pace
I wonder what causes
That line in your brow
That shadow of sadness
The fates have allowed
That holds you somehow
Tomorrow is lost
There is only today
I know there’s a cost
For each step that we stray
For our every delay
Poetry and Verse 