Writing My Rebellion

I push the dark hair off my fevered brow

I am suffering from a malady called the hub challenge

.

It is my rebellious nature drawing a line in the sand

My gypsy soul must fight against every goal I set for myself

And I am queen at evading my own plan

.

Just as one side of me builds the house of cards

The other side plots ways to knock it down

Seemingly by accident

.

As it falls I start to cry

But she giggles and makes a face

And runs off to the garden maze

Barefooted and dirty with a big smile on her face

And a milk mustache

.

I am torn between dipping my pen back into the ink and plodding along

Or chasing her down the path to look for lizards

And sing to the butterflies on the lilacs

Or maybe find a group of jackrabbits with paper thin ears

That glow red as the setting sun shines through them

And sneak up as close as we can until they scatter

.

I set my pen down carefully

And grab my sunhat