An original piece...

Tale of a Red Dress

Perhaps she thought no one would notice that run in her stocking,
down by her ankle.
Perhaps she thought her long tattered red dress would cover it when she walked.
But she sat.
Her back hunched over,
like it had probably done many times before;
Over stoves,
over piles of dirty clothes,
over her children.
And her neck awkwardly rested her head,
and she,
seemingly content,
slept.
She slept until a sudden jerk of the bus would wake her.
Then, not quite sitting up,
but repositioning herself,
she’d readjust her wide framed glasses
and fumble with the book she’d been holding -
And would stare intently at the open page.
The introduction read:
What’s Your Church Known For?
The answer probably lay in the following paragraphs,
But more than likely,
She still didn’t know,
Because once again…she slept.
Peacefully, she slept
With her denim bucket hat tilted to the side,
Exposing tired and fallen gray curls
That draped the back of her neck,
and swept the sides of her face.
And as I rode the bus,
observing her,
I wondered
if one day her story,
would be mine…
After all,
I did own a red dress.

Copyright © 2004 Nola Divine. All rights reserved