Beauty

I saw a pretty young thing
on the bus again
today.
Her nose was tilted up
ever so slightly
and her hair was like
the hair of a girl,
I won’t lie,
that I would wish
to run through my
fingers.

Hours later,
I thought of her again,
while standing in the shower.
The water streaming down my face,
my eyes screwed up tight,
I thought of her flaxen fringe and
nearly died.

Beauty is so often met
on your way to work
or on your quiet way home.
Even during walks through the park
to feed the raucous, white and brown ducks with
bread and tasteful bits of yourself.
Just like so many days of the year
and of your life.

And all you can do is smile
and watch it wander by,
fitfully wishing it might glance back.

Advertisement