Image by juliecampbell via Flickr
In a matter of minutes, with thirty years between them.
Two different looks,
Same deep soul.
One looked to see if I was looking;
A spark on an otherwise chilly day.
The other too young to know better
(Or too wise to care?)
An unwavering stare into my eyes,
That caught me off guard in its simplicity.
“Who are you?” it said.
With my mind, I replied,
“Yes, you know me.”
“Why are you here?”
“Same as you…”
“To watch the world,” our minds said together.
She smiled, then ducked behind the back of her chair.
Mature in her naivety, unhindered by publicity,
Legs tucked up beneath her,
We hide,
And we seek,
Without going anywhere,
In a game that takes us far from here.
Her giggles tell me,
I’m in the right place,
At the right time.
As soon as I realize what she already knows—
My own little kid still alive inside—
Her tongue waggles at me
And her eyes squint closed,
To avoid sight of my equally silly retort.
She wins, we know, but graciously rewards me with
A million pirouettes in a room
Crowded with tables and people
Never nipping a one of them.
Her own perfect dance,
Perfect because she still is a little kid.
“Thank you for the energy,” I think to her
As she waves goodbye with one hand,
The other holding onto her mother.
Still dancing in her mind
Through a doorway
And back into the real world…
For both of us.
The age of the soul
Cares less about the vehicle
And more about the miles traveled.
A lifetime of roads,
Waypoints on a path;
Sometimes the same,
Sometimes different,
We’re lucky when they meet,
If only for a moment in many lifetimes,
Because in an instant we gain measure;
Notice of wrong,
Or confirmation of right.
She walks away, but turns back.
“Keep going,” her eyes say.
“What you write today,
Might help me tomorrow.”
I nod, my thank you a smile that she never saw,
But from experience, knew was there.
