This ain’t no scrub
though a scrub may be appropriate for the intense gentility
focused and pulsating deep in her heart
The calvary that never waivers
emanating from the rear of her pupils
the reflection of the light in her eyes
is someone who notices and runs towards painful cries
Keeping her cheeks and lips flush
taking the time to be a sight for others’ small comfort
even the unending hours don’t dissuade her from taking the fine details of life for granted
Jet black is the backdrop of her relaxed composure
in the fog of running back and forth to and from each need
the light moves out of her way when she enters each persons’ room
Beautiful devotion of another breed
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