Trailing behind you the gossamer threads, like a broken spider web
Telling yourself you’re the bride, so bright, girly and gay
You wander around slowly, twisty and turning
To see who is looking with youthful desire
Twirling, prancing bird on a wire.
In every direction see your head bobbing
As you acknowledge a crowd of…none
Grabbing sadly at any morsel of hope
Your stories spread quickly
Like a raging bushfire
Looking blankly from under the rouge and the kohl
Glimmers of gossip are waiting to roll
To pounce and to grab, twist and turn
Making your insides acid and burn
Creeping upon you in the dead of the night
Wandering off cackling she fades with the light.
Ailsa
ailsacawley 