Born with a pen between her teeth

They found you outside the convent
on Easter Sunday, left inside a bonnet
lined with newspaper and blankets,
no note, just the misgivings of shame.
They nick-named you Cindy Elle
and took you inside Our Lady of Mercy,
gave you a cot in their old cellar.

Of course over the years you grew.
No book could tame your wild horse
you where taught to abstain but fought
with the elements of nature, always dreamed
to be more than you seemed, to write
your name on a fading sky, they all knew
how hard you would try. No room
for a Princes stare or to let one climb your hair.

But tonight on this cold stone floor
you sweep for the sisters once more
as poetry and prose, blows in from outside
and Bluebirds fold their bed linen, you decide
to find yourself a Mother or a long lost brother.
You'll write them in to being, give them space
to shatter glass ask of them a jaded past
where evil always tries to prevail, and
even the mice have furry tales.

Written by Razzerleaf
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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