Ree

Standing on her tippy-toes,
She watches where the cold wind blows.
And watching the stories float by,
She really wishes she could fly.
Curious, kind, quiet like none,
The girl only talks to just one.
She claims she hears voices,
But isn’t crazy from the noises.
Her eyes were auburn, golden orange,
And her spirit grey, silver spun.
Stars enlighten in her long black hair,
Clouds on her tiny white heels so fair.
Angels bless her heavenly grace,
She inherited her mother’s beautiful face.
Yet demons perch above her head,
She inherited her father’s angry dread.
And people step back in the streets,
Like she’s special, something to seek.
Overshadowed by sister and brother,
Quite smothered by father and mother,
She listens, she watches, she wants to be
Just like you, just like me.