Poetry

I Grew A Girl

There’s a margin in
which I can change
It’s shallow,
a low roof,
gnome’s entrance,
cock-pit,
dog house,
gopher’s hole,
sugar bowl,
A pore
In which I can change
I grew a girl
A girl who will never
be any other kind of rose
Who will shed and bud the
same shape of leaf
Year after year
I will be happy,
But I will never smile like
the girl-next-door,
At fourteen
I was already the
woman upstairs

3 thoughts on “I Grew A Girl”

  1. The “girl next door” is highly over-rated! You are beautiful and unique. Sweet does not set well on my taste buds. Give me the dark chocolate and red wine any day. I like the new format. Well done!

      1. The best takes time for the mainstream to catch on. Best of all, someone will be reading your words and discover that she has words of her own to put down. 🙂

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