The Sound of Thought

She wondered how they saw her,

How they felt when they first met her, 

The realization they came to as they knew her

The conclusions they reached as they thought of her.

She stood in front of the mirror, glancing at her image

Afraid that if she looked too long, she'd see what they saw

Maybe she'd already seen it, somewhere in the shadows of her outline,

While she toed the line of self-introspection,

Never really venturing too deep, lest she's met with desidolia,

She breathes in, another day, perhaps.

She's lived in the garden of her mind,

A lot more than she should have,

Watering vines that the seed of words left behind,

The hold they had on her, thorny or soft to the touch.

The blossoms she was waiting for in the quiet,

The fruits these wild growths would bear,

How fiercely did the roots claim her?

She navigated the path between the canopies,

The flowers, she hoped, would bloom colourful,

The fruits? A little mix of sweet and sour wouldn't hurt.

   @Sue.Ketter