The Stray

There was a time when she ensconced

inside of youth’s naïveté…

the truth was surely understood—

she ultimately knew the cost,

but she stood strong—ignored the loss.

In her head she chose to see

her life as no one ever would;

she would not be classified

as someone without family

nor circumscribed by childhood.

A family may take many forms,

and blood does not a kinship make:

accepting who a person is—

with love and warmth that isn’t faked,

forms bond that will not break

She showed up at their door one day

never seeking out their help

They spoke awhile among themselves,

and like some lost or homeless stray

they invited her to stay.

© Ginny Brannan 2015