The shine of fresh skin on top of a knobby knee,
Her blue eyes look down,
curious,
Her finger gets closer & closer,
not sure what will happen if she touches what's been rubbed raw,
She looks up,
grinning as she proudly shows her dad her days work.
She's tough; and she shows her scars to the world.
Across the room,
the wrinkles on her brow tighten as she smiles at the little girl,
Jealous of her zest for life & the simple nature,
The woman's days have accumulated & dusted gray her whispy hair,
How she longs to have cuts as shallow,
But the years now show,
Her head droops slightly as she turns away and looks out the window.
And another sits,
caught somewhere between the hope of the little feet swinging from the chair,
And the burden of someone who has seen this life;
She is youthful & somehow her soul is weathered.
She's had her heart broken and mended from laughter & tears,
She remembers when cheaters were just playground games,
She's seen ones fade away like the colors of fall,
And had some taken too soon,
She's traveled the world,
Made mistakes,
Giggled,
And loved another with her whole heart.
As she sits between the child with the dimples in her cheeks,
and the woman of wisdom & grace,
She can't help but feel like she has pieces of them both.
Raw & exposed in some way or another,
And they are all connected,
here & now,
in this place.
She didn't know what she was,
or maybe she did....
She was content.
And she smiled to herself,
as she breathed in all that moment had to give.
