Of a Passerby Outside Cianfrani (Poem)

I saw her hair first.

Long, silver, hanging in waves put into motion by God.

I couldn’t have guessed what her face should look like, but when I saw it looking back over her shoulder, that smile and pointed nose seemed more natural than a sunrise in the morning. The crinkles next to her eyes had an effect opposite opposite of Time’s intention when that patient devil began slowly creating them.

Instead of suggesting her years, they attributed to giving her profile a look of childish mischief- a spark that is stomped out by adult fears (being responsible we call it) by the time most of us can no longer be called children.

Those wrinkles, those crinkles shadowed and hid her years, with the help of the light in her eye reflected, by the shining silver waves that adorned her face and hung down her back like the cape of a queen.

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Madeleine McIlheran

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