Old Betty Boo
You’re tempted to say I’m silly, not subtle.
You want to disapprove, to dismiss me.
I break every brittle rule you have.
It wasn’t planned, to be like this, but
nothing ever is. Purpose and style
meant other things.
Have I outstayed my welcome? I could
retire to calm and tranquil shades.
Yet in this fast, bright world I am both
bold and old!
How else would you observe from little,
lowly me the way to hold the small, the
bashful and dismayed, the waiting,
wistful and reposing? To change with
time and so softly, to endure.
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