Sometimes she wished she were a tree
So she could see into the distance
and hear the songs of the birds
note by note
all around her
If she were a tree
high in the sky
the perils of the ground
couldn't easily
reach her
Some days she longed to be
part of the leaves and moss
that covered the ground
below her
low lying and endless in number
so no one would even notice her
But each morning
she awoke to find she was
neither a tree
nor leaf or moss
She was not tall and safe
She was not short and invisible
She
Was
(in fact)
Yellow
Obvious
Delicate
Embattled
She decided her best
(and only)
choice
was
to be brave
to be cheeerful
and to look fiesty
(fiesty as hell)
for as long
as
she
possibly
could
~~~~
FDFerris
February '10
Copyright 2010
