Some children grow into their faces
like a hand opening to reveal
a precious gem.
Some adults have in their eyes
in the turn of mouth
the child still at play.
Some faces are the work in progress
of an artist unsatisfied
constantly adding a decorative touch.
Some look at the world unsure
from the safety of a curtain,
not to be caught in a forbidden game.
Some wear the mask of make-believe
a mirror changing light and form
to fit the shadows dancing by.
Some are the sturdy parchment
of stories scribed by gain and loss,
the proverb of a hard-earned spirit.
Some remind of a faithful pet
licking the master’s hand
ever consoling and predictable.
Some faces are the children
of parents beloved or cruel
testimonies of joy and guilt.
Some faces are the signposts
of a long journey
bearing the remnants of history.
© 2007 Richard Sidy