we fall through water

Give me one hundred words.
I’ll give you a girl
writing stories in the sand
that you walk across
from here to there.

Words you wont notice.
Words the tide carries away.
A girl with feathers in her hair -
writing about you because
she thinks enough to care
to scratch your story there.

A girl who writes
with a twig, broken from a tree
that she grew all by herself -
a twig so rough and splintered
but still held so tightly -

a twig with a leaf attached -
a leaf that sometimes
I think could be me.