Tenderized

I can only imagine your nakedness,
even so, it stuns me,
so beautiful it makes me cry.
Bombarding years
have awarded that particular toughness
out of which comes kindness,
and, as such, is a great source of tears.

Just recently I saw a black man walking.
Grey-haired, he was with a child
who didn’t come up to his knee.
He bent far down, reached for her hand,
then matched his steps to hers
in a quick march dance.

They both were laughing.

Her grandpa, perhaps, or her father,
he was having fun
and happy to let it show,
no matter what others might think.
He almost glowed.
I teared up just to see them together.
There was so much beauty.

Today, I watch your face
as you cut my hair.
It is near, very clear in the mirror:
your eyes intent,
mouth set in deep concentration.
I smile as I watch its changes.
then must let it go.

Your face and hair are beautiful,
but so is your concentration.
You look so young,
like a small girl threading a needle.
Though you are not so young,
your beauty certainly is,
most especially, your intention
to do well.