Their tiny fairy, light and sprite.
Their Rainbows and sunshine and
Sugar and spice, their sweet angel.
I want to be held and loved.
They would delight in my words,
cherish my ways, charmmed by my flaws.
Wanted for who I am rather than
Who I could become for them.
I mould to fit in your space,
conform to your coaching and
Suggestions and outright directives
And fail forward to tomorrow.
Never your little pidgeon, not an
angel or fairy or sprite but
a pain in your side, annoyance, a project.
Work on me some more, Till I am no more.
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