She is never serene or placid;
It seems the chiseled lines of bitterness
Are set for good.
Do you think she ever knew the way to smile?
Not the sardonic display of teeth that has to symbolize
a smile for her,
But a real one, beginning within the shell to fix itself
In brightness upon that face, too hard with bitterness.
You don't believe
She ever smiled, had a heart, knew love?
Well, alas, who knows?
Perhaps she cared, perhaps she loved,
Perhaps she knew the poetry of unsung songs
That lingered on her lips and died there.
Perhaps the gray expression is but a dulling reminder
Of a silver one, once hers.
Susan J. Skinner
copyright 2011/all rights reserved
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