Her name was not important.
She'd even worked in Canada
for a year or two as Brenda Smith.
Her smile, however, well that was unforgettable.
I remember telling the man
that sells loaves of fresh bread at the mall
when he'd asked about her.
His tears were also unforgettable.
How could this man be moved
into tears when he'd barely even known her?
She was one in a million.
Her stride was that of a proud stallion.
That woman always greeted people with warmth and dignity.
Her eyes told so many sad tales,
the kind of stories her lips
would always try to hide.
Her name was not important,
for she couldn't have been anybody
but herself.
But her smile, well that was unforgettable.
Amanda Lukas
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/brenda-smith-s-smile/
