Scribbles

I loved a girl
walking with the hollow of the moon
[with the quarters and dimes]
silvering against her fingertips
in her pockets

I loved a girl
who always had something to say
and a tide calming voice
but chose to speak with the colors
in her eyes.

I loved a girl
who cared for silly notions
kept them warm and safe,
written and remembered
in her notebook.

. . .