Beautiful Outside As Well As In – A Poem

I was sitting348-old-lady-bus-queue

in the middle

of the bus.

There was a

woman waiting to

get off and

she called out

to the driver

“I pulled the bell for the wrong stop. I’m going to Shepard’s of Good Hope. Can you let me off at two stops down?”

While she waited,

she turned to

me and smiled.

“I used to be able to walk a lot. I was an athlete. Now I can’t walk three blocks.”

I didn’t know

what to say

but words came

out of my

mouth anyways, as

if being spoken

by someone else.

“The body changes. Sometimes there is nothing we can do but live with our memories but then make new ones.”

She looked at

me with kind

eyes and gave

me another smile.

“I want to live beyond my memories. I want to be beautiful again like I remember being.”

I closed my

book and gave

her a smile

of my own.

“You’re still beautiful.”

“No, I’m not.”

She said, letting

out a laugh.

“Sure you are.”

I told her.

“Beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. I think you’re beautiful.”

She blinked as

if in shock.

“Do you really think so?”

I looked at

her: she had

greying hair that

was escaping her

bun, a pale

face from too

much time indoors.

She was wearing

jogging pants with

flip flops and held

onto a purple

coat. She had

obviously seen better

times, easier ones.

But it was

when she smiled

that she seemed

to transform. It

took years off

her face and

I saw a

little of what

she used to

look like.

“Yes. I do. You have a light inside you that shines brightly.”

She put a

hand to her

hair and smiled

again and I

watched as the

light within her

grew beyond the

body and poured

out of her.

The bus stopped

and she looked

back at me

before stepping out

of the bus.

The light had

faded and I

looked at her,

a woman who

now looked younger

than her years.

“Thank you. I could probably walk a whole mile today. That’s the first time someone has paid me a compliment in ages.”

She stepped off

the bus, a

trail of light

following close behind

her like fairy

dust or dreams

made real.

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