Friday, November 26, 2010

Poem for a young girl

She loved to sing.
But, her voice was a thing
Off key and flat.
So, she wouldn't do that!

For joy she'd dance,
Til she saw people glance
In an envious, sour way.
"What's there to dance about?" they would say.
Though it wasn't a sin,
She'd keep her urge to dance within.

She dreamed she'd draw.
But, soon she saw
She was no Da Vinci, Raphael
Nor O'Keefe neither.
Then, just as well
She wouldn't do that either.

She hoped to write.
But all day and all night
Not a thought would come into her head.
T'was as if she were dead.

So she wanted to cry.
But, her heart was so dry
That she curled up so small
Til nothing at all
Was left of her.

Without her will
The world stood still.
And all was doom
All was gloom.
For the lack
Of hopes, dreams, joy and love.

She seemed forever
Lost in this land of never
Where no songs were sung,
No dances danced,
No colours seen,
Nor thoughts expressed.

But what few people know
Deep down there's a glow
Deep within
Where Black is thin
Is buried an ember
That can remember
Hopes, dreams, joy and love.

Gradually the ember stirred
The Black blurred
Out Light spilled
A heart it filled

The light grew stronger
And brighter
Eventually spilling
Into the form of a young girl
Eyes welling
With tears that fell, soothing
Her spirit and clearing her mind
Because in her heart
Hope, dreams, joy, and love were entwined.

Now always she sings
In a voice that still rings
Off key and flat
But, she doesn't care about that.

And, when she dances
She notices glances
Joyous as well as sour
Some are just meant to be dour.

She'll draw and paint
So what!  A master she aint
Her work's unique
At its peak.

Now her writing flows
Cus, in her heart she knows
In doing these things that are part of her
Doesn't matter what others think of her
The expression's the thing
Makes her free spirit sing
Sweet, clear and true
Loves to do.

Poem copyright Nance Thacker 2010.
Cartoon copyright Nance Thacker 1985.

No comments:

Post a Comment