Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Size Perfect

She climbed the stairs
Two at a time,
The shortest road to
Possibly a shortest queue,
Attempting to avoid the eyes
That would look
At little beyond
Her hourglass figure
And chiseled face.
Eyes still turned.
Deriding
Her attempt
Of visiting
The sanctuary,
Desecrating it
Frivolously.
“Please go through the tests first”
She joined the queue.
Moving with finesse,
Traversing thin crowd
With effortless grace,
Eyes burning her back
And her cheeks.
“Your weight, pale skin,
Please don’t participate”
Her hemo-count ok.
Her weight not-so-ok.
She walked out,
A laughingstock.
She couldn’t be the donor.
Just a size perfect.

12 comments:

  1. " She walked out,
    A laughingstock.
    She couldn’t be the donor.
    Just a size perfect." Such skilled choice of words. Wonderful read.

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  2. Well said-even a size zero has it's negatives:-)

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  3. I know this feeling. I can't give blood because I don't weigh enough, being of short stature. I only wish that bit of weight I have wasn't centered on my hips and thighs haha.

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  4. I felt bad for her, being a laughing stock. Long ago, this used to be me...two kids fixed that underweight problem :)

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    Replies
    1. I guess our thoughts match on feeling bad for her ... thank you so much for your kind words

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  5. I can feel her emotions here.

    What powerful writing.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you so much Jenny. I am glad the words convey the feelings

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Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.