Miracle Woman Miracle Woman

I wish I could run straight up a flagpole. I would stand on the top, on one foot. My other foot at a ninety degree angle, People would ask, “Is that a statue?” I would look wee, tiny, petite, way up there. The wind would try to knock me to the ground. I would pirouette and taunt the wind. Teasing him, but not allowing him any power over me. When I return to the ground, people would ask for an autograph. I would refuse to give them one, keeping on my dark glasses. They would chant my name, calling me “miracle woman”. It would be terrific!