Why are my steps so different
As I walk into the winds current?
I see others who are my age,
Willing to continue to engage,
In another time of their life,
Even before a husband or wife.
But all the wonders of creation
Seem to tap my shoulder with elation,
And I cant tear myself away from the fun
Of being caught to see and not to run.
Unexpected theres a whirlwind,
This force around me is my friend.
Dont bother me, leave me,
Your words are only to bereave.
Im busy, Im busy, I cry.
Please, please believe me, I sigh.
I need not talk of your race,
And Im too engaged in my space.
You only trip my steps of measure,
So dont! Dont take my pleasure.
What a sad and shallow people those,
Who seem to only wantonly pose
The attitudes of these times of no respect,
For a womans needs to create with no regret.
They seem to believe we have no net.