The Stories I Tell Myself

London fog pulls hard on the heels of shoes two sizes too small. They weren't meant to last this long, especially in bad weather. But I imagine myself a spy; the fog and cold are trifles.

Miss Minchin doesn't like the look on my face when I return from my errand. She tells me so. It does not matter. She cannot stop me from being the heroine in my own story.

The hard world insists
the stories I tell myself
are lies. All that they are -
my foolish, cherished daydreams -
grow to feed my hope filled heart.

Song Choice:  Fight Song by Rachel Platten 

This poem was created for a prompt given at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads: Rhubarb. We were asked to write from the perspective of a favorite childhood character. It was tough picking just one! But finally I decided on Sarah Crewe from A Little Princess by Francis Hodgson Burnett.


The Fair Folk are fond of mischief and misfits. Why else take a human child and switch it with one of their own? It may be a gift to live in a land you might otherwise have never known. But there is sadness too, in knowing you will never be quite part of the world of your blood.

Reshaping myself
to always fit, I forget
which is my true form.

Song Choice: Arcadia by Faun

This poem is linked to the Tuesday Platform at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads