You can count the perfect patterns of her expression
in the creased symmetry of her blue-green curtains.
Measure the dimensions of shadows or flashes of smile
that rise and fall on the contours of her face.
You can trace the magic inside the creases of her bed.
Even capture her colored energy in the pale peach taffeta ribbon
lying on her dressing table.
Admittedly, the color of her skin is harder
and more fleeting to taste
like eclairs au chocolat melting in your mouth.
Everything in the room is where it was when she left.
She took nothing with her
but the lily-white brilliance of her eyes.
UBeCute 