Wednesday, 29 January 2014

Beautiful Face

Today I saw a beautiful face,
Driving a car.
I looked down on it from the embankment,
And saw into its soul,
Through pre Raphaelite eyes,
Which gazed up at the clouds,
I noticed every detail in that tiny moment:
The two large yellow-green pools,
Expressing hope, longing, sorrow?
Which should have been reflecting
Back, reeds and lilies, dripping
At the water's edge
The width of the face across the cheekbones,
The flare of the chiselled nostril,
The beautiful, long, drooping, curved slur
Of the mouth,
And yet the hair was cut sensibly,
Short and rather flat,
Where it should have been long and flowing
In chestnut waves,
And the skin was lined, though not really old,
And I wondered what was the purpose of so much beauty
In real life, middle age, driving an ugly Fiat.

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