Spinning Girl
Sullen, dark-eyed, lonely girl
with the tips of her fingers on the tips of the world
with tragedy singing in her fragile voice
she flutters from room to room.
Imagining worlds from which she came
Umbrella-filled skies to catch blue rain
and plain ,white striped, loose-leaf, paper cranes
sail through the northern air.
A spinning horse parade goes by
carousel cars which kick up and fly
colors and shapes that don’t hurt her eyes
with no voice except her own.
She spins to the music that’s flooding her mind
and forgets all her manners, forgets to be kind.
For her world is much louder than both you and I
and she doesn’t regret our absence.
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