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JUST ASKING
Some people don't like the sea,
Some don't like the evening stars,
Some don't like the lush green hills,
Some, like me, don't like scars.
I stand near the seashore and dwell,
On the mysteries of life, heaven and hell,
Sometimes I sit on the sand and wait,
Wondering which one of us came here late.
I have been here often whenever I could,
With evergreen memories of childhood,
I have watched the waves and swam with them,
Deep in dreams gleam many a gem.
I have also been seen with the evening stars,
Seeking answers to why I came from Mars;
Pondering why these heavenly floats,
Have so much to do with our life boats.
I have also been high up in the hills,
Experiencing excitement and thrills,
With friends sometimes, at times with none,
Wishing that a heart like mine would come.
A heart that doesn't like scars on the sun,
That understands the finiteness of wisdom,
A heart that loves to live for love,
A heart like mine, from somewhere, somehow?
And so this span of years does pass,
I look at the sea yet walk on the grass,
For, I know, as the clocks tell me,
Time and tide wait for no he or she.
Sometimes I look at a cheerful lass,
Whose young heart is like smooth glass,
Sometimes I read lines addressed to me,
Expressing the hope of love and glee:
Then I come again at the seashore,
Mystified why fate wants to hurt me more,
Hasn't my tide of love appeared late,
Why me who has to always wait?
Now, tell me, you dear, tender sweet, sweet man what woman would not, could not fall in love with such a man who could write such a poem pining for love? Its just beautiful, oh so heartbreakingly beautiful!
If I saw such a man at the sea shore and knew his thoughts, if the good Lord revealed them to me right then, I do believe I'd walk up to such a man and kiss him and say walk with me, talk with me, tell me your story and let us give each other shelter even if only for today. Come dear, dear man you certainly deserve so much more but for now walk with me and share this remarkable moment we have been given to know each other. That is truly what I believe I would say except I'd likely be much more poignant and poetic in my wording at least the poet in me likes to say!
oh, and for the record scars can be beautiful. Think of them like medals of honor for the tough times we have had to endure throughout our lives. Anyone without any scars of their own by the time they reach middle age I think I would be suspicious of , like they were never truly, affected really by life nor truly involved or perhaps they never invested their deepest deep and got a wound for chancing to love. Such unscarred people
to me would be like an apparition gliding through life never having touched it really nor been touched by it. So, I say give me a man with scars any day over one who is pristine and unblemished. From the looks of this poem I'd sooner take you a man with scars than a Prince upon a white steed, galloping out from his vast kingdom to meet me, any day. For to me, such a man as an imagined Prince
is down right uninteresting and much too grandiose to really seem a real man to me, more so a child's made up fairytale and you sir are no childish fairytale so please don't speak so ill of scars and shun them like they are a disease, for when you trod on scars you trod on me for I am a uniquely scarred woman. I just show mine only to a select few. hmmm, Care to see? winks. you know who.... so why type it?