The Lady

a poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

A lady from Macau came into my café
those who say that oriental faces are inscrutable
have not met a Chinese lady.
Shiny jet-black hair, love
and life etched into corners of her beautiful, dark eyes.
A green orb of fire,
a halo of strength,
looks forty-five, but I think she’s fifty.
Was going to offer her Danish pastry,
but then her husband came in,
he loves her too.