|Original Picture Credit|
There’s a girl who is a much better person than me
Who walks far away from the paths I tread.
She has beach wave curls and jumps in leaves
Left crisp on the dusty city pavements
That lead her to where she needs to go.
She wears day-old mascara
And flowing skirts that graze her ankles.
She snuggles up in thick cardigans and baggy jumpers
But freezes herself for fashion.
She dons pretty dresses and dark lipstick
High-heeled boots and pigtails
Flannels and family-necklaces.
She writes poetry much better than mine
And even finishes her novels.
I say novels, as there are many –
Tens she has put into her own fumbled inky words,
Thousands upon thousands that are still
Clogged up inside of her.
She is active and outspoken
She lives the life she dreamed of
As a five-year-old girl reading books of fantasy and daring.
Her hair is cut at her collarbone
And is choppy at the ends.
She’s an expert at French plaits
She sings and dances
To the audience of toy bears,
Empty shower gel bottles
And kitchen pans.
She is far away from me
But if I follow her on the
Leaf strewn paths she walksI’ll go where I need to go.
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