from the strain of holding on –
who says you have to strive ,
work so hard
to be loved?
meet the starch of age.
Your blush now comes from a bottle.
Fallen arches and brittle bones
wave farewell to the seamless beauty
the lithe and supple grace
in looking-glass of old.
Don’t trade wisdom for agility,
or experience for smooth skin.
Embrace the wrinkles
that stamp Life into features;
name gray hairs
Maturity and Character.
As your last sun sets,
When your light rises again,
your skin will be fresh and new.
Your legs will be strong,
your steps sure.
Wait, my friend.
Your day is coming.
I see you are my Sister –
you live in Light and Dark,
good and evil
contained within your petals;
you have veins
and stars paint your core full of
potential to shine.
Part walks in sun,
part lurks in shadow;
the ever-present battle for your heart
finds suitable warring ground
Light and Dark collide…
Some would say your clothing’s odd, it clashes in its hue;
Others think your garments loud, and cringe at sight of you.
Others still go to great lengths to deny affinity there,
While those who know you least of all will often stop and stare.
But they don’t see, past ruffled cloth, the beauty of your heart,
Or notice with their blunted sense the qualities apart
From which your worth is lost in sundry traits which can’t be seen,
But felt with soul and mind and gentle spirit in between.