Martha

Another amazing poem from the unknown depths of Kelly, namely "Martha"

"Martha made her hair

Two tiny pig tails

When she’d shake her head

They’d wiggle waggle, without fail

Martha was prone to walks

Like them very much

She would look at all the things

And couldn’t help but touch

Martha’s fingers would trail along

Passing smoothly from brick wall to gate

Her fingers would slide along her old friends

And get scolded if they were late.

Martha’s walks were ones to see

They delighted all the senses

From her smelling the neighbour’s dinner

To hearing the creaking of old fences

Martha may see many people

But not a word would pass

The feeling too fragile

Mush more fragile than grass

Martha loved to wonder

And at the same time she would think

But the time never came

When she was on the brink

Martha had lovely friends

Settled, happy, carefree

They all had the deepest insight

But none of them could see

Martha would talk

Have wonderfully intelligent debates

But although her friends were lovely

None of them were great

Martha didn’t love them

Not one way or the other

If anything were to happen to her

All they would do is dither dather

Martha didn’t mind

She didn’t really care

She never really got people

She only liked their hair

Martha thought of her real friends

The ones she loved

She thought of how terrible it would be

If her hands were to be gloved

Martha’s fingers fell that day

Fell straight off a wall

But they got back up with their friends

And regained their composure after their fall"

I do greatly love the third stanza. Look forward to your next fix.