She’s a complicated
tangle of time,
a gypsy entourage,
and a traveling circus
all tied up in bows,
with hair that smells like
the autumn wind.
She’s the queen of cups —
she knows it, owns it.
You may watch her
from across the room
and feel like a thousand
moths to a flame,
but you’ll never unlock
her Pandora’ box
unless you’re someone
she offers a key.
Pen's Ink 