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.