I like lines in faces

Laugh lines drift off toward memories

of times with friends, fine wine, good talk,

friendly jokes,  tall stories.

Care lines cut the cheeks of a woman

who learned to stand on a dirty corner of life

and laugh .Tiny stripes twist out

like twigs on winter tree limbs.


I like winter tree limbs.. Nothing hidden,

sharp elbows twist, bend, crook here.

A wide curve skims past a branch

as another tree crowds in.

What decides which sprout wins the space?


A woman knows

which persons, moments, passions,

pressed the deep line deeper,

cut the tiny twigs.



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