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Shaw
Across exposed shoulders and a pale collar shown
lay a splay of red freckles atop her porcelain cast.
She'd seem to shine among the low lights
and the subtle haze of the drunks among us,
but all the while she's comfortable with
the thought of you standing close to her.
Her eyes so alive and piercing and thoughtful;
her voice tends to rise upon the point that she's making.
She couldn't sit still for more than a breath,
and often would stumble just after a sip.
And as you catch her and stay on your feet,
for just a moment she'll lean into your arms.
