What Stayed
Beauty isn’t the shine.
It’s what comes after--
when something still holds
in the quiet.
It lives in a chair
pulled out for someone tired,
in fruit split open
because it’s ready.
Beauty does not rush.
It stays in ordinary things,
long enough
for us to notice.
A clean cup.
A sure hand.
Light resting
on what stayed.
Nothing needs to be noticed,
what is here is enough.
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