Your eyes look down on me

so thoughtfully…

What do they see?

The plainness of me –

plainly built,

not small,

nor calmly poised,

nor quaint,

and, worst of all,

a nose upturned

and hands that I have known

for years to be

too long,

too overgrown;

plain hazel eyes,

a face too pale, not fair,

a mouth too large

and ordinary hair?

and all of me

tucked in

this homemade dress;

oh, if you look at me

so thoughtfully

will you love me

the less?

 

From Footprints of a Pilgrim by Ruth Bell Graham