What You Must

Softest of caress

Hair moves slowly through loving touch

Quiet whispers

As fingers move in their own words

Care

Not a word said

Nothing understood

The clamor too loud

For a single moment

Listen

Running to the end

Of everything

Followed by the magnitude

Of just one day

Chase

Alone and distant

Lost amid the the plush of conformity

Vacant grey

Offer the color's that she too holds

Sit

Forever moving forward

Perpetually pulled backward

Plaguing weariness

That has not a word to describe the feeling

Stay