Photo by Sagar Kulkarni on Unsplash
I may never be
Country club-dressed
and rare roast beef fed,
linen napkin in my lap.
I may never be well-read
and celebrated
for my art.
But I am a chrysalis.
In my mind
I have 26 letters
I can churn into words
and fold into butterflies.
By my art
I am set free.
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Thank you for reading my poem. This poem was previously published on Fiddleheads & Floss Poetry and is featured in the poetry collection Fireflies.
About the Creator
Christina Marie
A -writing she must go...
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