See Me

See me
a woman’s face etched with a story,
it wasn’t there a year ago, each day
brings yet another crease, a visual
testament that time is having her
way with me, subtly, quietly, with
each smile, frown; with every tear
shed, every rumination, wearing
contrition publicly upon my visage

 Ephemeral are the moments that
leave their remnants upon me, never
truly lost to my body, the vehicle
I reside in; to love, to value or to
disdain- this outer synopsis of who
I am to them, that see a physicality
that camouflages a young woman,
hidden away inside in my thoughts

 See me
in my mind, I am still cashmere on
gossamer wings; longings still reside
there, alive and fervent, difficult to
relinquish; my hand still clutching
the idealisms, its life, its very breaths,
so, I hold on tightly; even now, though
I keep notes to recall things I need
to do, succumbing to fleeting thoughts

 My head upon my pillow, my hand
clutched in my lover’s hand each
night; please see past the softness
of my once firm body, please see
past the lines around my eyes,
visualize me as a young cashmere
woman with gossamer wings, who
will flit about, singing the anthems

of my fading youth.

 See me.

 ©Brenda-Lee Ranta

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