Roberto Velastegui

She was not like the sun

Whose rise is so predictable,

She was not like any flower I know

For they only bloom once.

Her eyes were not as deep as the sea

For the sea contains sorrows within

Hidden secrets.

Hers were clear and free of concealed intent,

Like laughing from the heart.

Her singing was not perfect like mathematics,

For hers was clumsy and adorable,

Such as the scribbles the heart writes

When we fall in love.

She was not sculpted to walk the runway,

Nor was she made to be simply admired

By the narrow vision of the human eye.

She was the architect, designer and engineer

Of her persona and she liked what she saw

When she looked at herself with closed eyes

In front of a mirror.

She was an extra letter in the alphabet

And because she did not fit the status quo


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