All Manner Of Silly Things

I was a child of uneventful woes with butterfly yearnings for wild meadows oh, all manner of silly things; who knows I even collected marbles for gemstones. I was that little-blue forget-me-not waiting for the spring to call and knock. I was the one who felt how others mock masquerading I-might-be-a peacock. As a child with every migrating flock I felt abandoned I felt, left behind I was left to watch the ice interlock and the snowy white land becomes enshrined. I couldn't conceal my bitter envy, masquerading like I were hollyhock; my demeanour was sometimes sullenly, a bright summer's day with tears interlock. 'The bees would hurry on by with disdain, observing all these blue forget-me-nots as I mosey on down a country lane, far-off lost in my wayward, drifting thoughts.' I was a child of uneventful woes with butterfly yearnings for wild meadows oh, all manner of silly things; who knows I even collected marbles for gemstones.