I see you there.
You who is doing such a good job of blending.
You who moves among them all, but is the only one taking monumental steps.
I see you.
Eating your baloney sandwich in methodical bites, straining against societal norms.
Earning your place one lunch table at a time.
So this is what breaking the glass ceiling sounds like:
Slurping soup and stirring spoons.
No time for small conversation for you.
There are revolutions to be won.
Don't worry, sweetheart,
their eyes may be in their coffee cups,
but they all see you, too