Yesterday, Tim; today his mother, Sheila, brings a poet’s eye to the face mask and what it might teach us, now and when we can discard them (and please, not on the street!) Thank you again, Sheila for your artist’s wisdom.
Will we remember that we're beautiful? When, masks discarded, hands once more held out, Will we remember - beauty born - oh! Beauty born, Made by Beauty to be beautiful. Will we recall when the wrinkles show once more, how smiles light up that beauty, When mouths now visible May kiss and speak in beauty? In tenderness, you made it so, in praise, in song? Will we have forgotten the gentleness of touch? The scent of the winter's buried spring, Earthbound, Still masked, but waiting.