I had posted two poems here last night and decided to remove them and replace them with this poem. So, I did three for Day 14 officially, but since it's possible that some of my poetic words could be misconstrued, I won't repost the other two. So instead, there's this...again, based on the 'none of your business' prompt. It's another decastich poem.
In between the freckles covering her
pale arms are separate sets of lines,
pink and raised and it becomes hard
to turn away as she hikes the sleeves
of her shirt up past her elbows to
keep the dishwater from soaking her.
I keep my distance, look at the endless
pile of dishes that look as though
they will topple if she makes one odd move
and resist the urge to ask if she's ok.