If every second,

Morning, noon and night,

Has dragged her that much closer to the ground,

My eyes,

Untouched by the purple hand of sleepless nights,

Fail to see the purpose

Of spending six fifty on lipstick

And putting on a new face every morning.

Every morning she washed her hair

She rolled in her curlers

She painted on her poppy red lipstick

And she put on her trousers.

She laced her white athletic shoes.

Though she had nothing athletic planned for that day.

And she treated every minute of her day

Like she had the clanking heels of a businesswoman

But all she did was watch her “programs”

And feed her scraggly cats

You only realize it when they are gone.

That the only sanity left in her was the repetition of self-readiment.

And you know what lingers the most? A regret I have because I wish I knew it sooner

She was worth the six fifty in lipstick

She was worth the trip to the nail salon

She was worth the time spent coloring her hair.

She was worth the effort. Every morning. She was so worth it.