...And She Was Ethiopian

Today, I sat thinking how singular she looked. Did she know?

She had a certain beauty about her, she wore black knee length suede boots, no heels, no buckles. Did she know?

Her dark blue jeans fit snugly, her black tee thrown on without a thought to synchronization, on her ears hung earrings, not glaring not dazzling, nothing spectacular, fading pieces of metal. Did she know?

Her hair was piled atop her head, i longed to feel its texture between my fingers, discover its magic...its essence. Did she know?

Sitting still, i feigned interest in the white haired man's talk while all the time i craned my neck and inspected still... Did she know?

I searched for high cheek bones, I found none, her cheeks were flat, hollow just like mine, so what was this thing that drew me..i was captivated...i looked on. Did she know?

My eyes went to her hair again, it wasn't wooly like mine, neither was it anything like the white haired man's, it was different, in its own league, i could tell it was long. Did she know?

I wanted to free it..free it from its woven prisons..emancipate it from its braided crown that ran into a thick dark bush. Did she know?


Just then she turned, i saw her eyes then..but it was but a millisecond, i couldn't decipher their color..they were beautiful, inlaid deep in their sockets..there was a certain beauty about them..and they say beauty lieth in the eyes of the beholder.

And She was an Ethiopian.