Someday Poem by Siff Faroh

Someday a girl will sit next to me
and fall asleep,
her head hitching onto me,
my shoulders shivering gently.

The caress of her hair —
hair as pitch as night —
like the night, is a canvass of darkness,
harboring
little white lice
sweetly swaying and urging her
to itch and live in itch
(you'd think they're mine)

The breeze of her breath,
blowing with the scent of Eden's Garden,
breathes, as the garden of Eden,
distantly.
From miles and centuries away,
her breathing heightens
and deepens
with me not knowing what to hear.

Her heart beats (as does mine) ,
sounding as the perfect clock,
ticks, as the clock,
loudly
in one's lonely and longing presence
and dismissed but by the crowd's lone listener.

A louse's house in her head,
the sensed, far war in her voice,
and the single mingling tone in her chest:
Blame she does not deserve for them.
No.
As these imperfections go,
love, still,
is all to be given.

But I do blame her for the mistake she's made,
the time she's lost,
the energy she's wasted,
because she did what she did:
She went and sat next to me.