My mirror reflects a woman,
five feet tall, grey hair,
age spots daubed with foundation,
dusted with powder,
yet still visible.
Ancestors from Britain, Ireland, and Alsace Lorraine
fill my gene pool
But they don’t tell you who I am.
Once the title on my business card
defined the square footage of my office,
the quality of my chair,
the level of respect I was afforded,
but it did not tell you who I am.
Height, age, titles,
allow you to lump me in groups,
bucket me in stereotypes,
but that’s your issue,
that’s not who I am.
I am my dreams.