Her Soul

Outrageously Erratic

I lean against the wall

Of her kitchen,

Small, airy and clean,

And watch her talk

So passionately about

Something she had

Watched on the tiny screen

Of her cellular phone

The other night;

She does not seem here,

But her hands know

How to dice onions,

Tomatoes, and carrots

Without any input

From her faraway eyes,

And I always get

Misty-eyed as I

See someone unwittingly

Open the windows

To their souls by telling

Stories about the life

They could have lived,

The places they have

Never been to,

The people they

Could have been,

And everything

They deserved but

Did not quite get—

There is no one more

Pure and beautiful

Than her at this moment!


“Sometimes when I look at you, I feel I’m gazing at a distant star.”

Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun

Image by Peter H from Pixabay

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