Picture

She holds her arms to her head, fingers

poised to click, her maroon dress blowing

with the wind as each breath shaking

her chest, each time pushing the bridge

out of focus, ‘til it’s out of reach.

She wishes she had someone to take

a picture of her as she stands facing

the sun that rises as it sets, still

billowing in each breeze, a moment

to keep, ‘til she blurs just the same.