A woman's self-discovery and personal evolution
Feb.'04 SLAM Round#2 |
Her The last time I saw her, she couldn’t see me. She saw only what the mirror reflected. Young, pretty, desirable; Jet black, shiny hair Framing her smooth, flawless face, Complete with quick, engaging, but empty smile. A comely, inviting body, Beautifully and meticulously attired, Representing, Speaking for who she thought she was. The last time I saw her, she didn’t recognize me. Fresh out of school; and Gainfully employed, She knew everything there was to know. Educated, confident, Worldy, sexy; She had it going on. She knew all there was to know about life, about love- Or so she believed. The last time I saw her, she couldn’t see me, But I wish she could see me now. I think, at first, she might feel sorry for me; No longer pretty and young. Hair still jet black and shiny (with the aid of Lady Clairol), Framing a face lightly lined by Hurt, disappointment, worry, concern, Deep thought, and reflective introspection, But complete with a slow, easy, now genuine smile. If she could see me, she might pity my body; Not so slim and beginning to sag, But desirable to the one who loves me. Attractively, but comfortably attired, Understanding that it is only attire, Representing nothing, and Saying little of any real consequence about the person inside. She might feel sorry for me, because I am older And no longer young-girl beautiful But I think she would respect me. Educated, confident, compassionate, Worldly, too patient at times, compromising, And still mentally sexy; A woman who definitely has it going on. In possession of a confidence built on experience, Trial and error, Joy and triumph, And phenomenal failure, Rather than upon baseless, youthful bravado. World wise, knowledgeable, self-fulfilled, I think she might even admire me. The last time I saw her, she didn’t see me. It wasn't her fault; she couldn’t. She didn’t know me, and her vision was limited, so She wouldn't have seen me Even if she had been looking for me. But I can still her in the distance. I recognize her; I still like her, But I do not miss her. |