This journal wanders about. It's poetry, reflections, snippets from other stories and ideas of others, and my own pot luck thoughts reflecting the transparent thinking of this post-traumatically stressed, majorly depressed social phobic before and after my breakdown.

August 9, 2009

Life by spices - my Isabelle

A child to mind, she arrives.
spiced and salted;
Not made to be bottled up, not covered in lace
She's fresh like a peach with fuzz on her face.
She has a wee smooth bum, a strong back
and a head of curls that say "me".
I'm two, turning three and, yes, it's all about ME!'


Her recipe for 'freedom right now' is
'run, don't walk and always talk'
all she needs
to explore the wide world
of a yard fenced, a park hence,
a neighbour to sing hello.
She says 'read to me, tell me I'm pretty,
don't ever forget that i'm here.
I won't let you go far from facing the fact
that I'm yours to adore and cheer'.

2 comments:

Jaliya said...

I know who that's about ... ;-)

Beautiful ... lyrical ... and a tad sassy, just like our girl :-)

Love you xo

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