Bakery Queen

I see her,

she doesn’t see me.

She stands a little taller now

that she is a little more free.

She has something private,

A haven in this cement dome.

Away from the constraints,

Her husband calls home.

I wonder what it’s like

To walk a mile in her shoes.

Does she drink coffee?

Or read the morning news?

The plain baker's apron,

She wears with a grace.

Queen of the bakery.

Always a smile on her face.

When her lips curl up

Her eyes don’t comply.

Her mouth can move,

But her eyes won't lie.

Uncomfortable conversations

can be felt when she is quiet,

I want to know that she is happy,

But she keeps her life private.

We met only once before,

I don't know the secrets she keeps.

I only know who she is

Skin deep.