The Story’s In The Telling

It isn’t the events that happen,
Facts in time and space –
It isn’t the emotions wrought
From such-and-such a place –

It isn’t lessons that we learn
From habits, work, or dwelling —
But in the way these coalesce:
The story’s in the telling

She’s walking down a city street,
The first time – on her own –
This world is new and strange to her
And she is quite alone

But all is possibility,
And circumstance is good:
Both what she is expecting and
What little’s understood –

As she described the day to me
In vintage sorts of hue,
I fast imagined I could see
As through her point-of-view

For though she’d started over, she
Had never really stopped;
And her at last rebirth came when
The last few chains she dropped

And all of this was in her tale;
That day, though strange and rough,
Resulted in discovering
That she was good enough.

It isn’t the events that happen,
Facts in time and space –
It isn’t the emotions wrought
From such-and-such a place –

It isn’t lessons that we learn
From habits, work, or dwelling —
But in the way these coalesce:
The story’s in the telling

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