She sits at the edge of her seat reading,
the edges of each page slightly scraping her fingers
as she turns each page, slowly
her eyes bright and humming,
entranced with each and every word
The early morning sunlight glows
creating a halo of light around her
yet the hustling of people continues on,
none paying a single glance in her direction
It is as if they cannot see her,
they do not hear the silence that
she has become acquainted with.
They are overwhelmed and buried
with what they hold in front of them
to even look up for a second,
they cannot spare much of their time
to someone who they do not know.
to someone they cannot see
I wish they could see
the beauty that they are missing with each
passing step
I wish they could see
the happiness that this one person has
in a moment that is all her own
I wish they could see
that this beautiful person exists
right now,
when we were told to believe that people
as beautiful as she
only exist in heaven.
Yet she is here,
giving us mortals an idea as to what
death can only bring us
if we pray the right way.
Yet they do not see her,
they only continue to walk.
But that is the thing, is it not?
Very few of us have the gift of seeing,
and all I can see is her.
YOU ARE READING
A Book of Words That Never Seem To Be Enough
PoetryA book filled with words that I thought made sense, but they never seem to be enough. *warning* emotional, messy, raw and full of sadness (sometimes a little happiness here and there) I hope you give my words a chance, maybe they'll be enough for yo...
