COLD BEAUTY
Her smile was radiant, her eyes the deepest blue,
Her skin like pure alabaster, the fairest hair I knew,
Graceful as a lily, standing very tall, yet rather cold,
In perfect poise and beauty for anyone to behold.

Yet did a heart beat in that form to show love?
Did no one enter those arms as soft as a dove?
Aloof she seemed unable to give love, want to feel
The joy of living, as if she was too cold to heal.

Did red blood run through those arteries or water?
Through childhood was feeling never taught to her?
Could I reach out invite her to be my true friend,
Or would she cut me down, me be hurt in the end?

I smile at her and said ‘hello, my friends call me Ann’,
She looked at me, and it seemed her eyes me did scan,
‘I am Barbara, I have no friends to call me any name,
For a moment I saw the depth of great hurt and pain.

‘We could be friends, you and I’ I said with a smile
‘We could sit and chat together for just a little while’
Conversation was stilted and hard to come at first,
Then the floodgates opened for friendship she did thirst.

I gave her my phone number and address, asked her to call,
I told her of my family, she seemed to have no one at all,
Her business card she handed me, maybe we’d need again,
There is a longer story, which ending to you is quite plain.

(Millicent) Ann Margetson 13 August 2004