So much less than sincere
His face had intent
Writ large
A slowly spinning crisis
Best used for advancing
Became the tool he used
To meet the future her
She matched his glaring
Discontented soul
With her own sense of wonder
She pouted without realizing
How much she reminded him
Of what he'd thought he'd lost
As always with a scheming heart
Eureka come a moment too late
And the slowly spinning crisis
Spun him out of control