Creativity Tuesday: Poetry.

Negotiating Western. 




I saw her yesterday

The sun bright and low

I trusted not myself behind the wheel

I paused

Staring

Gaping




She was bewitching

Her skin kissed in fractured light

Freckles seasoning the bridge of her nose

her hair had a life line

golden

wispy




She was perfection

What life must she lead?

Children turning their faces

Supposing they've encountered angelic presence

Women hesitating to meet her glance

Men opening her doors with a soft swoosh




A nod from the baker

A wink from a teller

A stolen sniff from a teenage boy,

standing behind her, 

awaiting the water fountain




Has she heard the word no

uttered from the lips of another?

Could she define the word disappointment?

Does she know what it feels like to be:

Embarrassed?

Silly?

Plain?

Overlooked?

Generic?

I dare say nay.




She embodies what I feel my soul

would reflect materialized.

My shell quite vanilla and quotidian

I shrug my shoulders 

Pretending

Wishing 

I hadn't seen her at all.