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An Uncommon Woman

She was tall, but only by hair, hat, and heels

    and looked like she rode through life sidesaddle.

     Petals of her flowery stature dripped from every pore

    as she slowly stepped from the train

    as if she were granting a favor.

    In every room, every location

    which she decided to grace with her charms,

    she always made an entrance

    – a carefully planned one –

    looks consisting of just the right clothes,

    the right jewelry, 

    the right smile. 

    Purposefully she created a scene

     – just one from her collection –

    upon passing through the door;

    and most often she was coupled;

     framed in that doorway,

    by a man whose looks were such

    that every woman present would have given anything

    to have approached on his arm,

    being part of the steamy movements

    they created with their stroll.

    Photographers loved her,

    men idolized her,

    women disdained her.

    Though lovely, her life was not of beauty and fullness

    as she portrayed it to be;

    not the same from the inside looking out.

    No women wanted to be close. 

    Many men did.

    The best men, though, slid away

    as they thought either they’d not stand a chance

    of gaining her

    or they assumed she’d been

    with too many.

    She had boxed herself in

    with being the complete actress

    and knew no other path.

    Her ways created to seek protection

    had robbed her of 

    the realities of love and laughter.

    How she longed

    to be invited to a simple barbeque,

    to see a movie with a couple of pals,

    or to be invited on a picnic.

    How she yearned 

    for the easy way

    to be with people – and with herself.

    She knew not how to be a woman’s woman

    and had had too much of being man’s.

    Her days were clouded

    with too much silence

    and her maps

    only showed routes

    leading in circles

    or to dead ends.

    Came the day

    when she decided

    to push past the circles

    and the ends

    to seek

    her own.

    A quiet day became quieter still.

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