Stella
She was like Helen of Troy
With a face that could launch a thousand ships
With delicate Hispanic features
She was like an earth angel
All the men looked at her
Like she was a porcelain doll
Eager to be captivated by her charm
All the ladies envied her
Like green-eyed monsters
Ready to criticize her
Like nomads ready to attack
But no criticism tantamounts to her beauty
Everyone knew her as a star
Yes, everyone knew her
Or they thought so
When others flaunt their beauty
She hid it
For she was more than that
More than you could imagine
She had an eloquence around her
That comes with wit
She could talk sense to anyone –
of low or high status
She was artistic
A survivor
A reader
A philanthropist
She wonders,
“When will someone know me for who I am?”
This one question echoes in her mind
As she walked out of the crowded bar.
