The story in her eyes...

...began with a fluttered lash
as a mote of dust filled the scope of vision
a speck that clouded a dream...
the story wandered nomad like but with certainty
it meandered told like a slow river
then rushed downhill and leapt
cobbled time and gathered air
into a foam and luxury.
Gained tempo from urging winds, surged
swiftly and ran to the mouth of land
where it gently opened to kiss the sea.

All along the shore line
across smooth rocks and sanded bottom land
wherever it touched, the story
left a trace, life's precious crumbs
that I could follow, home.