Girl with a bird
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So below is just on little piece on seeing and what happens…
Who’s this fellow? Short sleeved, white shirt
earnestly rushing through the crosswalk as I wait for the light to change.
Such a neat white shirt, pinkly fresh new shave, hair combed flat, almost managerial in his mid-thirties off to work.
I thought it inappropriate that he also had a book bag over his shoulder.
I scowled.
He’s not some little boy.
And then, I saw he was.
He was seven years old and trying still to please,
the fear packed up with the schoolbooks and almost forgotten,
but still slung across his back.
I knew how very hard he tried.
“What is it they expect and can I get it right?”
He tried every moment to be that which deep inside he could never be.
And in that moment I loved the little boy-who-would-be-a-man today hurrying to work.
Who could not love him?
It is these moments that encourage me; perhaps I am doing something right.
When I am at work and happen just to glance through an office door, where behind the glass and silently I see white haired Judith conducting business,
and see exactly how she was when she was six and had a pretty party dress that she could smooth down with pudgy hands that are now all crooked with arthritis.
In this moment of truly seeing,
I love the little-girl-who-became-a-woman.
Is it such a stretch to fall in love
as you watch someone take her glasses from their case?
Or to fall in love online, with someone that you don’t even know?
Except you do.
You do know. For Love is not that blind.
And if I am awake
if I Really pay attention,
I should be falling in love every day with at least someone.
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