Little Miss M.

I feel over-dressed today
Surrounded by pregnant people
I’ve a jam jar in my purse
Along with a date of birth that’s not compatible with my age
My passport is many moons behind my treadmill
It fits in the loop though
Unlike myself
I live in my own loop
As a dodgy piece of jigsaw puzzle
With the innate ability to be stubborn
And to deny myself of far too many of life’s bountiful peaches 

My wrist stained
Scarlet from a crucifix
I’m sheltered by a child on a line
As I cross the square belonging to a saint by the name of Ann 

I’m here
In my scuffed white pumps
Looking at you.