To you girl in the stiff grey skirt
and skin-tight shoes,
it’s okay, they say.
Good enough to lay down.
So go ahead and let it live.
But a trickster whisper tickles your tiresome
and blows bubbles at your boredom.
That’s no way to play … it will say.
Safe and sound and on the ground.
Let your heart strum the notes and
your wildness weave the tune.
Release them to the clouds in a paisley balloon.
Soar over lavender thistle and poppies magenta,
drift in a field of blue-eyed sky.
Wings stretched wider than make-believe,
your failures jump out in parachutes.
A benevolent twister sets you down
on sacred ground,
and your heart hums its song
that is yours alone to sing.
You know it is good.