BEAUTIFUL WOMAN

You’re coming down the runway

You’re coming down the street

I wonder, I wonder

Can we ever meet

You’re a vision of beauty, 

were you sashaying?

Yes, that’s the word, 

“Exaggerated movements 

of the hips and shoulders.” How did it feel?

To be lusted after by men you don't know;

To be assessed for performance on the runway?

The sidewalk, the street?

Was it a performance; 

the real “you” hidden away?

Do you separate what you do 

from what you are?

Surely, a necessity!?! 

Doctors do it, as do teachers

Policemen and women, 

actors and artists

Now is your time to shine. 

Fly on, silver bird.

Change scenes. 

You’re walking down the street

Are the shoes on your feet comfortable; 

what’s your selection of heels? Why?

Do you feel the looks of passersby

Judging you; assessing you; 

Stripping away the layers

Of your protective shell?

Making you feel vulnerable

Wherever you are.

Does it happen; 

The demands for perfection

An artificial standard? 

Is it all you want to be acknowledged?

Not judged; recognised as a person, 

Not as a type or form

Of an obscure variable? 

Should we meet, will you greet me,

“My name is .. “, “nice to meet you”

I will reply, “Nice to meet you also”

Would you? Beautiful woman

(Beauty is an internal quality also, isn't it?)