To The Lady on the Train,
There are those who would look at you and somehow not see the intricate curls of your hair or the line of your neck.
There are those who would look at you and not see your sharp shoulders and elbows, or the angles of your arm as it rests on the table. And they would not see the delicate taper of your fingers that hold so much strength.
Some who would look at you would not see the softness of your cheek and the dimpled spot below your eye, and somehow ignore the way your jaw sweeps up to behind your small ear.
There are those who would look at you and not be moved by the swing of your arms and the pendulum of your hips and the bounce of your curly hair as you walk.
There are those who would look at you and beyond reason, manage to not fall into your eyes.
As impossible as it sounds, there are those that would look at you and not see all the magic and beauty that you possess. Those people who do not see you have missed a wonderful gift.
The Man in the Station
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