A tick and a tack
Crawling on the surface, subtly
Occasionally hoping over protruding veins
Dancing across the tightly knit threads of the thumb
Glancing down upon my feet, I see
Red and pink drops of a mere encounter
Of a mosquito and the skin
Itchy? Yes
Pretty? Perhaps
Such an accurate representation of time and space
All the meetings, and some social grace
All that is left behind are marks truly meant to change
Is it a memory, or a simple bleached stain?
Arts