True Beauty

Free form is more interesting than maufactured uniformity,
detail stands out when parts are worn.
Dullness provides a background for luster,
subtlety makes bronze more elegant than gold.
Thrown together can be more beautiful than meticulously chosen,
one of a kind means more than one million dollars.
Having history is worth more than being brand new,
unadorned is more refined than embellished.
One who knows that
old doesn't always mean broken,
rust doesn't always mean dirty,
simple doesn't always mean boring-
can know true beauty.

I Am

I'm a memory woman
I'm a silver ring woman
I'm a fresh woman
I'm a creating woman
I'm a opinionated woman
I'm a nostolgic woman
I'm an appreaciative woman
I'm a concerned woman
I'm a dress woman
I'm a simple woman
I'm a complicated woman
I'm a window woman
I'm a food woman
I'm a time woman
I'm an interested woman
I'm an indecisive woman
I'm a passionate woman
I'm a beach woman
I'm a water woman
I'm a feeling woman
I'm a map woman
I'm a vegetarian woman
I'm a tree woman
I'm a music woman
I'm a dirt woman
I'm a diverse woman
I'm an organized woman
I'm a healthy woman
I'm a reading woman
I'm a moving woman
I'm an open woman
I'm an originality woman

Regretted Remarks

The way you bundle in your robe annoys me
how slow you are to respond could make me scream
your guilty smile as you try to hide the habit I know is there
makes my chest flare up with anger
and my fingers want to tear.
When you shuffle down the stairs at eleven,
I try to hold back the sass
but your slippers and squinty eyes are too much,
and my mouth opens to fast.
When you finish off the granola,
that took me hours to make,
a comment slips out like a bar of soap
from hands as they try not to shake.
I'm really sorry for the times I snap-
back-talk, retort and hurt,
but I still love you for who you are
no matter what malicious things I blurt.

Cracked

I have figured you out.
You are like
ice cubes when I drop them into my tea to cool it,
an overused serving platter,
stiff joints in the morning,
a new book when opened to read,
the tops of expertly baked cookies,
an adolescent boy's voice,
skin between my thumb and index finger,
the parched August earth,
overripe cherries,
the code to a wine cellar,
an ancient sun-worn, wind-weathered face-
cracked.