She was the initial experience

A fright, or perhaps a hope

And although wrapped in her benevolence

Struggled in heading up the slope

A cliche appears more as a provocation

Regardless of the disdain given to those around

But decades of cautious observation

Developed her into a rare compound

 

The lack of feet inspired

A construction of frail wings

And while her eyes were always tired

They remained addicted to new things

Pursues or clothes or paper

Would never be able to compare

To the thirst of feeling safer

And disturbing the habit of being square

 

And so perhaps she startles with ease

And perhaps she needs more time

Or perhaps she wears out to please

All those who spared her a dime

But regardless of her odd endeavor

And regardless of her fray

Her position could be wherever

Yet her blessing is bound to stay