She doesn’t listen to warnings,
Of mind your manners and don’t fight.
She hates the mornings,
But revels in the late hours of the night.
She doesn’t worry about the weather;
She goes dancing in the snow and rain.
Light on her feet as a feather
Yet nearly always feeling pain.
She does not understand how to detach
Torments of emotion and erratic attitude.
Can do as much damage as striking a match.
I do not receive nearly enough gratitude.
I do not understand,
I am not versed in her lines
I am made from a different brand
We are all distinctive kinds.
She is distracted by the sunrise.
She is much too bold
And far too old
To be diverted by a butterfly.
Like
Share
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.