I was sitting at my make up table this morning getting ready for the day and I was inspired to write, yet again.
It comes on like a song that keeps repeating itself until you finally sing and dance to it then maybe, just maybe it will pass and leave you be.
I think my mind has turned into poetry.
Such a different perspective. Photographers have lenses, they can adjust and use to alter a frame. As a writer I never heard the song of poetry, as I focused on fact and insight, intellect.
Now everything has song and beauty to it.
All of my thoughts become poetry.
I think differently lately.
I see differently lately.
I am different lately.
Sitting at the make up table
of my antique set
where many a lady sat.
What did she feel?
What did she see?
Did she see me looking back
in the mirrored reflection?
Did she wonder about the same things,
have the same concerns?
Did she hum a tune as she brushed her hair,
Watching beauty fade?
Wondering where the time went,
looking into her self for the answers.
Questioning her own eyes?
Or maybe she didn’t ask,
maybe she didn’t dare to question
who she was,
for she knew the answers
of who she was,
and who she would always be.
You were who you were born to be
Like a piece in a game of chess.
There was no choice.
Oh, antique woman sitting in my chair.
I wish I could brush your hair.
Give you the futures sense of aware,
a sense of being you wouldn’t share.
I am so thankful to live in a day and age that supports growth, especially as a woman, becoming who you are not what society says you need to be.
Have a great day being you, the fantastic, unique individual that you are.