From the notebook
She wore pigtails to the ball
Simplicity always feels better,
Than complexity,
You can't resist style and grace,
But money is always an acceptable restraint,
Everyone does everything with their eyes,
That's why the con is always put within the fingerprint,
So here I was,
Dressed up, sterotyped and posing,
At the thoughtfully complexed ball,
The rules are simple,
Everyone dances and no one knows you name,
Sterotype is the law, but never taken to the heart,
It is merely used as a sadistic front,
Everyone needs a trophy to pass through the years,
And the ball was, of course, the stomping ground,
People think of who you are,
Way before they see you,
She had nothing, in the rule status,
And flaunted it well, too,
No want, No care,
Came from the presentation of her eyes,
It was only the music,
That lead her journey towards here,
Pig-tails, those "Pippy Longstocking" pigtails,
That the eyes so quickly attracted faster the her own shadow,
She planted the seed of anarchy,
Right there and then in the ballroom,
And the acceptance was taken quickly,
Not only because of eye activity,
But because "new" always has sway,
For "old" to stop, look back and think about itself,
Sophistication was never any match,
For Curiousity,
The dancer moves without a trace,
Poetry by Saga
Read 673 times
Written on 2008-08-28 at 17:23
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Kathy Lockhart |
