In the years I wasn’t looking
you grew into something
something really BIG
with layers of… material.
You’d put on airs and graces
been to many places
tried on masks and faces
till your own face changed.
You looked so unlike you,
you wore a neon name
around your hat.
I didn’t recognise you.
I lay down and cried.
Then you spoke. A gentle whisper
that bounced off all the walls
echoing, building, growing, and finally dancing!
All the layers melted
in the soft fire of you.
The neon name exploded.
Its pieces made a jewel
in your hair. I saw your hair!
I saw the colours you were born with!
And I lay down and cried.
(First published in Pixel Papers)