Tuesday, April 7, 2015

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

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Thank you for reading my poetry and sharing your thoughts.