Invisible
I am the smile behind the welcome
The hand that opens your door
The basket to collect your laundry
Clearing your dirty plates from the floor
I am the bleached raw ragged fingers
Burnt in the scalding basin
The spotless glass to serve your poison
The soft pillow to bury your face in
I am the swollen hungry belly
Of the dusty child you do not see
The moths on the backdrop of a glittering stage
The wire that binds mothers to be free
I am the cobwebbed elderly lady
Waiting quietly on my turn
My milky eyes watery and grey
To see the great flame roar and burn
And after the races have all been run
And the gold is but a glowing ember
After vanity has left on that majestic bird
Only then will you remember
It was me that you noticed on that cracked tar road
With no one to hear my story
Of how I have carried my own Olympic flag
Long before the crowds, the lights and the glory!
Copyright © Keith Bettesworth | Year Posted 2016
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