ALL THE THINGS I WASN'T

March 14, 2024

Someday I hope you’ll see all the things I wasn’t;

I wasn’t long-stemmed red beauties;

Long lovely limbs dethorned,

So as not to blemish your skin as you caress the stem

I was wild Alberta roses, the bright pink blush of spring,

Thorny and growing at will, never tamed or curbed

By some man’s hand, taught to grow a certain way.

I wasn’t fine bone English china, kept in the cabinet

Only to be looked at, Grandma’s finest all the way from the old country

The best story ever, but only that, a pretty tale

Maybe used in the dining room once a year.

I was THOSE dishes, bought at WalMart, the kind everyone likes

Pulled down everyday, a story at every meal

The kind that sits on the family table day in, day out,

Filled with soul food, comfort food, love food.

I wasn’t fine wine, 120 years old, fifteen hundred dollars a bottle

Pull the cork out, breathe deep, exhale

Good sommelier, swirl the glass, check the legs

Tempt your palate, hint of oak, not too sweet, ahh but of course, it’s French.

No, I was 80 year old Scotch, the good kind

Burns all the way down, with every breath, every inhale

Taste the peat, the bogs of my ancestors, fire in your belly

That doesn’t go out in 2 minutes like this new whiskey they sell

I burn like that, flames that keep you warm, down to the depths of your soul

I wasn’t some fancy dame, some girl to write home about

The girl every mother in law wants, calm voice, pretty manners

Sedate meadows, cool breezes, gentle things, demure

Ladylike perhaps, but maybe more than I could be?

I was thunderstorms, and fiery tempests, thrill rides

Spur of the moment and never know what happens next

I was alive, brave, creative, wanting so much more

And I was all the things I wasn’t.

Creative Writing