Appointment

It's a crazy mad dash to the scullery.

A race against the clock.

Tick Tock Tick Tock! 

Why do I so begrudgingly wait?

And for what?

One more primp at the hourglass.

Oh I wish the glass would shatter!

Beautiful  wavy curls, alabaster face, porcelain.
Not seen by the contorted mirror.

So once again she primps and primps and primps.

Why can't she be comfortable in her own skin?

And how does one woman transfer that to another?

It's all about attitude,  How we walk and carry ourselves.

That is beauty.  Beneath the skin. Skin deep.

Frantic and rushing. All in the name of humanity.

Cram down last eve's fragment of chocolate pie.  Enough to get through another morn.

The room awaits.  Sad.  Disheveled.  Unkempt.

Wanting to cry out ...Notice me!  Someone please.

The sink laden with hairs...cut, cut, cut.

Not quite perfect enough.

And so the trimming begins.

These are primitive years.

Logically I know that...and yet I fester.

And worry and wait.

Pendulum swinging and swinging, but not in my direction.

Another compass, pointing west.  Certainly not north.

Engine running...hurry, scurry, panic, rush, I'm late.

I make my deposit...within seconds...she arrives just in time.

On the detour back, I see him along the road, amongst the traffic.

Not much thought in the world. Untied and flowing hair.

Not even a care.

Walking ever so slowly, no need for brisk.

Eyes straight ahead.

Persistent and flowing.

Step by step.

And I wonder

Why can't I peruse and ponder and relish?

Soon enough another bus will arrive.

Another scullery, another class.

Why so fast?

Teach me to follow the rhythm of the one who takes life step by step  by step.

Not a care in the world, as the traffic keeps passing by....