MISFIT:

Told by mama to go & play with the kids next door,

But she preferred chasing butterflies so much more,

Papa always worried because she talked to herself,

But she talked to old ghosts, fairies & the giggling elf.

She never liked fireworks, fun-fairs & party balloons,

Preferring cool green forests on summer afternoons,

No loud music & colours, nor crowds for this little girl,

Preferring soft grey mists & bird-song in which to twirl.

Growing up, men tried to bend her to their noisy ways,

But in cold lilac dawns, she preferred to kneel & pray,

Fast jiving feet & discos she forfeited for bended knees,

Drunk-sodden-leers she exchanged for whispering trees.

In time, marriage came to pass with a gentle good man,

Children arrived; she gave all, as only good mothers can,

Her life sped by & she did all that she was told & should,

But still she dreamed of silences of the deep green woods.

She´s the misfit in the lives of those who towed the line,

An island, floating in the dawn of her own beautiful time,

Her best friends, the moon & understanding silent morn,

Between two worlds born, ever since divided & sorely torn.