By Stands with a Smile
Date: 2 February 2001
After the melee
They sat
on opposite curbs
facing each other
just within shouting distance
on this little ally way
this side street
from the main avenue
of Love.
Her clothes were dirty
and torn
her heart, her eyes,
her very manner
bruised.
Her hair
was in dusty, dirty
disarray
but her head was up,
her eyes were bright
she had lost none
of her power..just her punch
at present.
He was much the same..
torn, dirty, tired
and very sore.
They sat and looked each other over
their eyes taking in the silent battle
in the lines and cares
worn on the opposite face.
There was respect there.
In his eyes, in hers.
Slowly, without a hint
that it was coming
they both laughed.
Rising
they dusted off their clothes
squared their shoulders
adjusted their dented pride
and stepped out to shake hands.
"Well met", he said.
and she agreed.
With lighter steps now,
with greater grace
they went their seperate ways
back to the fights
and trials
of different lives
Each knowing
they were not alone..
others fought on too.
It mattered not
if win or lose
they rose on starlit wings
or fell with burning souls.
It mattered that they tried
and failed
and tried
and failed
and never surrendered.
Well met,
My friend.
Back to the Heart-on-Sleeve Corner