She was ugly. Not very tall, overweight, with thick glasses and long bulbous coat. She smiled a big crooked smile of crooked teeth; almost a bumpkin. It was two days ago. I trudged up from the dirty supermarket, smokers and drinkers crowding the exit, walking through the snow and laughing with love at the antics of the youngest princess of mine.
As we passed her she looked at me, with wide, gaping smile, her eyes dancing:
“Mikä hyvä hymy!” She said.
In a quiet country of no smiles she shone like a diamond: she glowed with happiness purely because she saw someone else was happy:
“What a good/great smile!” She’d said of me, gesticulating with a free hand as she spoke, to ensure I’d understood.
Daffodil and tulip bulbs don’t have much going for them at all, in the beauty stakes, and I don’t even know if roses have seeds or bulbs. But plant them just right and they will burst with overflowing beauty.
What a beautiful woman.