Welcome to Four Lines! I have a goal I would like to write at least four lines of poetry or a haiku every day for the rest of my life. I'm excited about this challenge! Also, along with my daily poem, I will be reading at least four lines of another author's poetry. I'll try to include that here also. So I'm thinking - how difficult can it be to read and then write one poem a day? We will see! - Claudia

All poems on this blog, unless noted, are written by Claudia Callaghan.
© 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016 Claudia Callaghan
Used only with permission. Please feel free to join Four Lines and request permission.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

This morning a brown man said, "You are beautiful,"
as I placed quarters into the parking meter.
I laughed, shrugging it off, because...
     we are all beautiful.
Yet, I wished I was brave enough to say kindly,
     "You are beautiful too."
Pausing on the sidewalk, he looked curiously
at the eyes of my black dog, Little Running Horse,
sitting at attention beside me,
one blue ice, one brown, like his skin.
      "He's beautiful too." he said.
       "'He' is a she," I responded.
        "Well, she is beautiful too."  He commented,
smiling up at me.
In a flash I didn't want to see it.
An unwanted memory.  Was it my memory or his?
Within one second, I declined to see it again.
Who did I want to see? Who was this brown man
who moments ago I thought was beautiful?
A gentle man and a gentleman.
Sincerely, respectfully, I confidently said,
      "She is a rescue dog.  The veterinarian said a mix.
        Husky.  Lab.  Great Dane.  German Shepard.
        She's a wonderful dog and can shake your hand, if you like."
He reached down carefully holding out his hand.
       "Shake Onyx," I said.  Onyx gave him her paw.
The man smiled again, this time as if the warm and golden sun
appeared from behind shading clouds.
        "What a good dog!" he told her.
We parted, saying polite goodbyes, have a nice day.
I decided, no matter what happened, I'd try to see everything,
everything for the rest of the day as beautiful.
As we crossed the street, I noticed a young, frail woman, walking slowly,
slowly, slow as an old, old woman. Her hair was carrot orange and
her thin clothes unmatching.   No matter what happens, I heard in my mind,
       see her as glowing - like a water lilie in the warm and golden sun.
We exchanged greetings. I knew she didn't think she was beautiful.
      "May I pet your dog?" She asked whispering.
      "Absolutely. She is very friendly.  Even though
       she is 90 pounds!"
She knelt down beside Onyx and hugged her.
       "She is so beautiful." she said, looking up at me.
I wished I was brave enough to say kindly,
       "You are beautiful too."

No comments:

Post a Comment