slice of life
〰️
slice of life 〰️
That day was blessed.
A crêpe was eaten that morning,
In a restaurant owned by a small man.
His mannerism reminded me of my grandfather.
A passion and simplicity that inspires respect and comfort.
Lunch was spent within the walls of a museum.
In the street, I was asked which fashion show I was headed to.
Could have been sarcastic, but why see it that way?
A box of chouquettes was acquired at Paul.
Footsteps tracing a path to the tube.
That’s when I saw her.
Sat next to me. An old woman.
Wrinkles on her hands.
A scar on her thumb.
A ring on her finger.
Marks of a life lived.
Full of successes and failures.
Her hands held a book.
Sketches of birds on each pages.
Hiking bag at her feet.
A hairclip holding up her wild grey hair,
In a way that seemed above caring about such things.
A passion.
That was all that mattered.
There were wrinkles in the corner of her eyes,
Around her lips.
Marks of someone who had smiled.
Who had laughed.
Wrinkles of happiness.
I hadn’t seen someone this beautiful in longer than I could remember.
Yet I couldn’t bring myself to tell her.
A moment of cowardice.
I did the closest thing to a compliment I could think of.
Opened the box and offered her a chouquette.
Silently thanking her for existing.
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