Day 639 The cracked mirror

Today is Friday. Today was a particularly emotional day. When you love people, there is stress and tension because we are not all the same and we bring our own issues and experiences to the relationship.
When I feel muddled up inside, I usually write. So, here it goes….

Cracked Mirror

He said she was pretty and it made her smile
What made her pretty was not the way she combed her hair
Nor the colour of her eyes, the blush of her cheeks
He did not reckon beauty as a mere physical thing
It was was the way her lips easily curved upon meeting a stranger
Or her eyes glistened at the a ragged woman huddled in shop alcove escaping
the rain
Her chafed hands had washed too many older bodies whose hands struggled at simple tasks
Her voice had no real quality but her words were magical to the grieving
Her clothing was second hand and her pockets empty but little bellies were full
He said she was pretty as she pulled a cracked mirror from her purse
She peered between the spidery lines.
It’s what lies beneath the cracks; deep inside, that made her pretty, so pretty indeed.

Pretty is as pretty does as pretty loves.

Peace my dear friends.🌹🌹💜

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