Contagious

At the bid of peace she turns

and a cringed look is locked

in her way more supple gaze

her soul so tender twinges

but her fervent face exudes

an infectious smile in a spread

then! All folds fade.

as the cowered face leaps

back to its chirpy thirties

She turns

and a craggy hand girdles

the tender of her own

at the bid of peace and the iron hand

is smothered off all stops

and becomes a toddler’s palm

in the fierce lock of her own

The eyes on her when she turns

are unclothed windows

to a heart sopping in blood

stung a thousand times

and today morning aggrieved

that one must attend

with others more comfy

and so the soul weeps

and the eyes that say it all

are a pair fixed in one

by one contagious pain.

———–

Poem: © Agnes Aineah

Original Image © Edward Musiak via Flickr