Make of This What You Will

Your eyes aren't the color of clear blue skies,
they're the color of the earth in the garden plot,
but I'd rather have something
I can hold in my hands -
I can smooth and trace
with fingertips -
than something cold and bright
and far away.

Your smile will never
blind cameramen -
one tooth is chipped,
and a gap peeks through -
but who needs teeth
when you smile with your eyes
and your whole body smiles too.

You've never read a fashion mag,
designer brands are a foreign thing,
but you aren't made by
your thrift store jeans -
faded knees and tattered heels -
you make the clothes a part of you.

Your hair is not a cornsilk wave -
it's honest and clean and straight and true.
You're more of an oak than a willow tree.
Your lashes flutter at dust,
not me.

I don't know that you
read poetry, or
would want something
written for you,

but you can always
use this to wrap
half a sandwich,

or patch that
old hole in

your shoe.