Daily writing prompt

How would you describe yourself to someone who can’t see you?

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I watch the wind, not the rain.
I am gentle but alert—
the way a bird perches on a power line,
still, but not unaware.

You won’t know the color of my eyes,
but you’ll feel them study you softly.

If you could not see me,
you would still know me.

I notice a flower growing through asphalt
before I notice the building behind it—
not because the flower is rare,
but because it’s brave.

To you, I might feel like a weathered velvet chair:
still soft, but shaped by years of holding space for others…
with a secret stash of sass in the cushions.

Like a historian with one hand in the dirt,
I catch the poetry in your posture,
the story in your laugh,
and the mystery of why that one bird sits alone on the power line—
not lonely, perhaps, just quietly keeping watch.

If you could not see me,
you’d still know me.
Because I see the world the way you do—
not with eyes,
but with everything else we were given.
There is always more to see than what is seen.