We all have scars. Cracks that will mend with the mortar of a life lived. There are also the cracks that never heal. The ones that are open, always, to the next life event.
You take me as I am. I don’t know if you don’t see the lines, cracks, and the scars. Or if you choose not to see them. Either way, I find myself at peace with you. No guards up. No false fronts to maintain. With you, I can just be. Nothing more. Nothing more is needed or expected.
Cracks in the familiar are not rebuffed by you. You caress and cherish each one. You take them and accept them as if they were adored icons. You look in my eyes and see what others do not. You see my light shining through the cracks.
(C) 2019 Penny Wilson
Penny Wilson Writes 