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I got too used to it, all those years
Men's necks snapping like dried twigs underfoot
When I entered a room
Gladly making fools of themselves
To get my attention
Corny pick up lines
That I laughed out loud at
Delighted at their optimism
Fantastic offers enthusiastically tendered
I shook my head "huh-unh!" to hear.
Fevered declarations of love everlasting
Laundry lists of all they'd do for me.
I got too used to it.
I never considered that some day
I might no longer be
The Great Beauty
Or walk into a room to realize
Bewildered
That I had not stolen the light from it.
Never thought of me
As conceited or
Puffed up with some supercilious notion
Of self-importance …
Maybe a trifle nonchalant about Beauty
Perhaps,
Never suspecting she'd pack her flowery things
Stealthily slip away
One April morn
Leaving me to awaken and find her gone
Unbelieving,
Frantically poring over her remnants and leavings
Grieving
Then settling into "This-is-it-ness"
Yes, I got too used to it.
But there is quiet majesty
In papery crinkles at the corners of my eyes,
An aristocracy of living at the edges of my smiles,
A fondness for my dear and faithful body
Which eluded me in more perfect times.
I have come to peace with this venerable machine
Finding deep joy in acquiescence
Accomplishment in perseverance
Grace in aging.
Beauty's face has changed
Some may say,
Her prospects diminished;
And though I miss being the blithe recipient of
Her sweet favors
There are other blessings now
Mine is the joyous task of discovery
I bartered innumerable longing gazes
For broader vistas.
As I bid her poignant adieu
Tranquil, finally, at our separation
I find myself enraptured with the journey, although
Stunned to find my flowery constant companion
Absent from my repertoire of friends
But gloriously ablaze in every living thing
Around me.
No, I say…
Beauty did not diminish.
She simply took her rightful place,
And I am most privileged just to have been
Her hostess.
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