Head scarves and long, flowing skirts. Gold jewelry and bangles that jangle with every step. Staring at the stars and moon, basking in the old sun, and wondering how many have done this too? Then the wind running its cold fingers through my freshly washed scalp. Writing beside a dim, warm light. Applying lipstick, and eye-liner. Sandals, earrings, hair jewelry. Curly, untamable hair. My big brown eyes, my beauty marks, my birth marks, and stretch marks. Holding a straw basket on my hip and on my head. Carrying a child, and picking wild flowers. Pondering and daydreaming. Timeless.
Woman is timeless. Every woman who has ever lived.
Toodles, xoxo Me.
#*I am every woman by Chaka khan starts playing*
YOU ARE READING
And I Know None of This Will Matter
RandomA Sound somewhere here on earth just out of earshot orrrrrrrr runnin on fumes and feelin a little poetical feeling the need to ponder and contemplate (Ok ok, I tell a lie, it's just a bunch of yapping)
