© photo by michelle bryant
as a little girl
i wanted so much to be pretty.
the cute one with the smile,
with golden curls,
like the other girls,
but i was just a child.
i hated when people pinched my cheeks
to add color to my paleness.
i wanted curls,
like other girls,
i wanted a bit of frailness.
i wanted boys to follow mi
but i was rather thin.
i had no curls,
like other girls,
i didn’t know where to begin.
people just didn’t notice mi
i’d no friends anyplace.
i wanted to be wise,
have pretty eyes,
i wanted a pretty face.
the nights i asked the Lord for beauty
i cried myself to sleep.
i asked for curls,
like the other girls,
but all i could do was weep.
i didn’t deserve to be pretty, i guess
all i could do was cry.
and wish for curls,
like the other girls.
i guess i didn’t try.
well, Lord, if i can’t grow up to be pretty
then let me have friends galore!
forget the curls,
the other girls,
i’ll be mi – forever more!
© michelle bryant