She writes intricately and beautifully

Years ago I wanted to be her
She was washed and fresh
And looked like a damsel
Daunted from distress

I wanted to know this woman
I wanted to be her all day long

In my dreams I am a poet of many colors
I sing songs in my sleep
I twist nightmares into foolish leads

This woman who peeped out from forgiveness
Caused me to stare many times
Over and again

Inside of her I see myself
Her lamp in the weeds
Controlled and un

From a black and white photograph she beckoned
Quietly she stared

I would try on her shoes if I could
Bathe in her soap

I turn over stones
Looking for a brand new image
Resting placidly
Enveloped
And placed around a corner somewhere

Leaving traces

Word by word
We are writers