Oh My Life

Oh my life
I can not craft you anymore
like I used to.

I was always smaller than reality,
living inside the old
cottage clock
of pearlized ceramic
where flowers, trees
and walls
all looked the same to me.

All was plush
and quiet,
elegance and riches
all mine.

Or I was the ballerina
turning, turning
on my toes
inside a little window
of the small brown alarm clock.

Someone wound me up
and I danced.
I was not female
nor male,
just me
happy in my crafted life,
my reality.

© 1999 Sharron R. McMillan