Who Am I
This is me, a Pippi Longstockingwith mismatched tights
and a fake, twirling moustache.
Wishing I was Cinders
or at least a beauty with a beast
who fed me truffles
while lounging on a velvet couch.
I am me, I wear flowers in my hair
and get twigs caught as I feed the birds
beneath the weeping willow tree,
this is me, with overlong eyelashes
that keep getting caught in my eyes
and making me cry, I wipe a lavender
scented rag, I love fragrance
and collect vintage bottles to store it in.
This is me with sticking out plaits
I artfully chop the ends
to give a ragged cut, but when
I smile, I see into souls
and when I cry, there is noone there to see,
in my ragged shirt and shorts
I snort with laughter at the absurd
and sip my black tea from bone china,
it tastes better that way
I'm turning into mother, although
I never knew one.
This is me Pippi Cinders
with holes in her tights
and a void in her heart filled with love,
laughing at the inappropriate
while dancing in the moonlight
and singing with the chorus at dawn,
I swoop and sweep and cat call
from the chimneys of my childhood homes.
Poetry by Elle
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Editors' choiceWritten on 2021-08-06 at 19:16
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Editorial Team |
|
Alan J Ripley |
|
one trick pony |
|
shells |
|
ken d williams |
| Texts |
 by Elle Latest textsMarchFebruary New Year Christmas Eve Two Little Cats |
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