Three

Composition;
briefly above the world
but not below star-torn seas
and half-worn dreams
sitting on the stone
hands on your lap.

Crisp diction;
dressed to the nines
but something is out of place in
that fine blonde hair. that hand-held stare.

Cracked pavement;
glued together in your eyes
like the time the world fell and we,
three,
waved it back together
those black curls a declaration.

Cool collision;
myself in the middle
the stop two were born into.
I was born into again and again, decided on cement
taking it away
so that one baby smiled, but the other frowned.
In between, umber tendrils.

Calm conditions;
United.