The Nice Thing About Strangers

The tiny girl with the Louise Brooks haircut watches herself in the window’s reflection. She addresses her father behind her in a set of seats–giggling that she can see him without turning around. She dances, her image hovering over the airplanes below being loaded up with luggage. She tugs down the long white sleeves of the top she wears under her jumper, like a nervous teenager instead of an elementary school free bird. Her jumper is decorated with various colored stars. Her leggings are purple. She has an outfit far cooler than anyone at the gate area. Her Dad gazes at her from time to time, smiling to himself, but giving her space.

She admires her high tops, her hip socks, her life. She balances boldly on the elevated heating vent, but needs Dad to hold her hand as she timidly hops down. She sees me seeing it all and…

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About Jonathan Caswell

Mr. Caswell has been composing poetry at least since High School. He has been on WORD PRESS for ten years and contributes to two other blogs beside this one. This blog has a Christian emphasis but all bloggers are welcome. Mr. Caswell chooses to---with permission--re[post material of interest

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