That day

What happened that day I asked myself?
What was going through my inner thoughts
To just allow me to follow without question
A lead towards happiness, future.
ME?
It was always told to me it could happen
But I just didn’t fit the happy pattern
You know the one
Sweet little pretty wife, with dozens of friends
The always painted face and hidden tears
Perfect home and wonderful garden, darling
The life on a constant treadmill and rota,
Moving so fast I’m dizzy.
Oh I tried so hard and so long
Drifting in my head when I could to somewhere
I didn’t have to reach for beyond the stars
And I gave up, stopped looking.
Then I looked again and painted my own perfect
Not the expected delivery of it.
My perfect.
No rosy pink and flowers round the door
Exaggerated plans to please anyone
In my own colours,
Carved from the tree, painted purple and shining
Some light areas.
Perfect my perfect, not yours maybe
But now I know something
There are so many variations on perfect.

Ailsa

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Author: ailsacawley

I have written since I can remember. First inspired by the wonderful stories of Roald Dahl, the Brothers Grimm etc. I adore myths and magic of all sorts, though I read so many genres it's impossible to classify it all!! Some of my poetry is truth with a healthy (or unhealthy depending on your view!),dose of magic and fiction and others are pure fiction. I'll leave you to decide for yourself which those are! Please stop by and enjoy and glad to make your acquaintance. Feel free to leave a comment 🙂

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