130

I’m not the girl with the Cinderella smile exposing perfectly straight pearly teeth so lovely birds swoop down to perch on my finger and sing I’m nothing as sweet as Snow White I’m far too smart to fall for the old poison apple trick I’m more likely to be the one placing a curse on an enemy that’s earned my enmity I’m no raving beauty my waist a bit wide my shoulders too broad my spine slightly snaky with a tendency to trip over my own two feet I’ve often pondered the possibility that in a past life Shakespeare’s muse for Sonnet 130 must have been me yet he found in her something exceedingly rare a love strong and true beyond compare Is there someone searching for that out there?