She was by a window in the library,
Brown eyes turned golden in light,
A pencil-chewing, hybridized sight,
Eyes glassy from the trance of reading,
He approaches, she, unheeding.
He says hello and offers to refill her coffee cup,
She empties his will with her strange eyes, so sunny side up.
Her true true self is like a flash of prismatic light –
On the edge of glassed minds, illuminating.
Yet she remains invisible, even when bared to naked eyes.
Tired, she folds her faded reality neatly into a corner,
watches the surreal become solid way of life.
Time and time again
They prove that people like her are in vain.
She resigns, surrenders her essence to the dust.
A joyless peace consumes her,
She understands, now, why she was demeaned.
True beauty is external for external beauty is rewarded and seen,
A vanity that is never in vain.