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Personal Note:

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Poem

On Tuesday I was a prancy, dancy, pirate queen, 
On Wednesday I was a velvet-clad bohemian traveling fancy lady, 
Yesterday I as a native American who had been done wrong by cowboys.

I am on a Treasure Island today.
The youngest son in Swiss Family Robinson.

My personas are found promptly when I pick up well-loved missives.

Last week I was Jo, the heroine of Little Women, 
cutting off my hair and selling it
to help my family.
More often than not I am Pippi Longstockings, living alone, 
without parents, taking care of me and my monkey.
There is truth in every book I stick with, for in that book I find a sliver of myself.

Books where I see no inkling or believable bare hint of me hold no interest.
They are not the ones I return to again and again, relishing in my glory days.
Slashing my sabers, showing the world what I can do with a bit of fantasy.

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