I don’t like to color
There’s too many decisions
With too little time
A picture that means nothing
And staying in the lines.
My mind starts to wander.
Then I get behind
Of others who are outlining
Softly shading just fine.
I need to refocus…
Is that an arm or her hair?
If I were the artist -
I wouldn’t put that there…
This Princess needs antlers
Or perhaps a large beak
Maybe now her subjects
Won’t see her as weak.
Poor Princess…
Everyday spent trying to be
The picture of perfection
Others long to see.
I know!
A mustache or beard for this gal!
A hump on her back
Or a horrible scowl!
A pitch fork in one hand
Cigarette in the other!
At this point there‘s no doubt
She will alienate her Mother.
But alas under it all
There still remains
A picture of a soul
That hasn’t any words
That hasn’t a name
Her lines defined
By another’s intent
To control and manipulate
How MY time is spent…
So that’s it.
I don’t like to color
Or be bound by the lines of another.
Rather – I choose a blank page
Where I can uncover
The whisper of my Muse
With pure freedom to discover.
Hannah Jackson :: 2010