Not Me

Standing au naturel
clothes strewn over bed and floor
wardrobe ransacked
seeking more.

From the mirror
sad eyes watch.
Not mine
They speak of worlds
I’ve never known.
I’m still a child
barely grown.

Who is this woman
no longer young
imprisoned by self-doubt
her life-song yet unsung.

I hope she finds her wings
and someone sets her free.
I’m still young,
I know she can’t be me.

Robyn Wilde lives in one of Melbourne’s outer eastern leafy suburbs. In today’s world, she enjoys her garden, along with the wildlife, including possums and magpies, that also call it home. She has written poetry, early reader children’s stories, a novella, and an anecdotal comedic memoir. This is her first publication in any genre. ‘Writing is good for the brain (most of the time anyway), gardening and wildlife is good for the soul’, says Robyn.

Readers’ original and unpublished poems of up to 40 lines can be emailed, with postal address, to [email protected]. Submissions should be in the body of the email, not as attachments. A poetry book will be awarded to each accepted contributor.