She can draw a straight line

Even with closed eyes.

I tried

And failed

To do the same.

She knows how to tie her shoes

Into perfect balanced bows

She can tie a ribbon on her head

Like nothing you have seen

And she does it all with ease.

She can walk from A to B

And never trips between.

She can dance

As light as air

And hold any tune

She often laughs

But never snorts

She will sit

But never slouch.

And make-up

She looks fine without.

And always has perfect hair.

But then a again

Who really cares?

About lines and bows.

I know she can

And I know I can’t

But that’s nothing to stress about.

I’ll come to class

With my shoes untied

And draw my crooked lines

I’ll sing flat or sharp

I’ll stumble from A to B

And my hair will be free

And my spine badly curved

That is me

A mess

Maybe mad

But if my line is all you see

Then you have hardly began to know

The picture that is me.

So, draw yours straight

I’ll draw mine curved

And see me, as you want to see.