You have to be ugly, ducky, before you’re winsome.
If you’re lucky, after you lose, you win some.
It’s dark in here, the velvet hangs red and heavy
but there’s still light outdoors. Time to let in some.
You were awesome, a pillar of the community,
Awaiting your destiny – but destiny’s name was Samson.
The sun set in the east, the birds flew north,
The tides stayed still and you were on your lonesome.
Sour grapes can set your teeth on edge –
Be foxy – more white grapes will make you grin some.
You and me, today we’ll make that great leap forward:
If all doors are closed to us, we’ll sneak in over the transom.
If you have any
thoughts on this poem, Mary Cresswell
would be pleased to hear them.