Portrait: Mel C.

One woman has never been so mysterious
to me.
The thoughts etched on her face
are barely visible to us,
but the simplicity shines brightly.
She balances well, not unlike a
Chinese acrobat with tea cups.
There is less bravado, yes,
but the grace and beauty can't
be ignored.
So solid. She will be an old woman
with granddaughters who ask questions:
"What do you call a small rabbit
with no sense of identity?"
With a straight face, much straighter
than I can muster,
She will reply honestly and in French.
The grandkids will squeal and ask for more cookies.
I, myself, would steal time to remain
one seat away, figuring the puzzle in her face.
Those invisible etched thoughts that
I think I can see.