little J.

sweet little one,
long limbs swinging
she feels safe in t-shirts and jeans
because she shies away from the beauty she holds.
no trace of makeup
hair rich and black,
she is a thing of beauty
but she would not dare glimpse too long in the mirror.
she is quiet, attentive,
her eyes are always asking questions.
questioning others, 
questioning herself.
She is a good listener,  so safe
that one easily would have no trouble
spilling their darkest of secrets at her feet, 
still hoping for 
a wise response from her,
a hopeful acceptance.
this little J, though she be small,
unassuming,
she holds a depth that is rare.
injustice rises a good anger in her
and she is good at assessing a person
looking past the surface
and recognizing untended wounds.
I see a little of myself in her,
a little uncertain, a little fearful,
yet a quiet assurance of who she is
and is becoming.
We sat on the leather seats,
surrounded by noise
and clamoring children,
yet we were able to hold each other's gaze,
glimpse each other's hearts,
and my spirit connected with hers
and I am so thankful to have found a new friend
in this sweet little one.
little J, 
with the 
swinging limbs