Free-write

For my creative writing class I'm supposed to write a detailed description of an observation everyday. Just one paragraph is all. It's supposed to help inspire poetry I think. I'd much rather do it my own way. But, nonetheless, here's the last one I wrote (yeah...I'm a little behind).

I traced the contours of his face with my eyes. I tried to memorize every line - every wrinkle. I was trying to engrave that look - that memory into my mind. I studied how his eyes twinkled in place - exposing his optimism. His glass was always half full, even in the midst of trial and despair. I thought about every crease in his skin - about what might have put each one there. Those "c" shaped wrinkles around his lips must be stuck there from times when he laughed so hard his cheeks hurt. Those quizzical marks along his brow could only be memories of advice to his children - stern reprimands, or admonitions even. And those drooping curves beneathe his eyes hint at scars from deep emotional pain, nights without sleep, and times when he was forced to his knees in the sincerest of prayers. Even so, those eyes have won me over. They shine with compassion and concern and they glimmer with lighthearted laughter.