Her fingers finally feel longer to her.
The ears and nose never stop growing.
Her feet are done.
Her brother, here first, walked and drove
at his own pace and patience grew taller.
Sprouting new grey hairs that draw silver lines
over peach fuzz, made coarseness more reflective
and full and great amens.
There are no coincidences in story.
The ending we will never read.
Ends meet and repeat.
One of a kind assumes kind came first.
Always out of touch with clouds that contain
snowflakes, we thought we could melt together.
Instead we end up in grey
lines of silver and touching someone with story.
Artwork by Pietro da Cortona, c. 1632-1639, in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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