moment of surrender

she sits on a worn wooden bench,
in a nondescript shopping center
white hair lifted by the breeze into the sky…
from below it appears as pure white strands of light
brown eyes shaded by lowered eyelids
facing up towards the warmth of an afternoon sun
inhaling deeply and humming to herself quietly
the whirling world darting into sandwich shops
and back to the office, never once noticing
the ageless beauty’s moment of surrender