White Stone in my Girl’s Hands
There she was on a windy Friday afternoon. She is always in the same spot. She is there no matter the weather. Sitting quietly on a small polished podium surrounded by flowers. She waits patiently at the head of a small creak.
Her skin is youthfully smooth, polished and glistens in the sunshine. Although she speaks of eternal youth, her skin has a burnished patina. She is my girl. She has been ever since I moved into my neighborhood.
It doesn’t matter that she may be made of bronze, I still adore her. Her hands are outstretched in anticipation of the gifts she will receive from the neighborhood’s children. Today I spotted her sporting a beautiful crystalized white stone.
I look forward to crossing paths with her soon.