The Girl

Always in the girl you see,
Her perfect frazzled hair,
Her tiny fingers bent,
Her unpursed rosy lips.

Trust shines bright within her eyes,
Within her hopeful stare,
Within her soft intent,
Within her fingertips.

One small look of slight concern,
A brow raised in the air,
A mouth turned toward the chin,
A jaw she almost grips.

Always in the girl should be,
A perfect hopeful plea,
And every message sent,
A trust most innocent.

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