Missing

Missing

Deborah Beach Giordano
© July 16, 2010

Rare as hen’s teeth,
I haven’t seen one ~
not a genuine one ~
in ages.

There must be a shortage,
a limited supply;
one day I noticed
they had disappeared ~
and I don’t know when
or why.

I remember them
from my childhood;
they used to be
quite common:
you’d seen them
everywhere:

in barber shops,
and beauty parlors,
at the butcher’s,
the baker’s,
and the shoe repair.

Another vestige of
the olden days ~
as rare as
horehound drops.

They adorned soft-cheeked infants
and their doting grandparents;
mustachioed young men
and soot-smudged chimney sweeps
sported them with pride;
they peeked out
from under lacy parasols
on sun-kissed Sunday afternoons ~

wherever people gathered,
you’d find them
in great numbers.

Now long-absent,
missing in action:
lost in the crowd,
trampled in the rush,
waylaid by worries,
forgotten amid the fears,
hijacked by cynicism
and self-importance.

Gone
but not forgotten;
they were
so beautiful,
so warm,
so reassuring,
so perfect:

they looked good
on everyone ~
the young
and the old,
the rich
and the poor,
the robust
and the fragile
and all those
in between …

I wonder
if smiles
will ever
be back
in fashion?

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About inklingscommunity

I am a struggling Christian, committed pacifist, near-obsessive recycler, incurable animal lover, inveterate tree-hugger; a nature mystic, a socialized introvert, an advocate for the vulnerable, an opponent of exploiters.
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