A Girl Of Nine!

I neither claim to be a perfect being nor a person free of flaws my heart is made of rebel stuff it does not follow laws somewhere inside I keep a child who does never grow She has her silent tantrums wild which mostly unattended go In me resides that girl of Nine you can say second self of mine she is in contrast with me when all leave, she lasts with me she's always clad in painted frock and loves to watch the birds' flock painted hair in pony-tails silky-textured ribbon tied same in nature Maggie-like sharp in wit and moods wild up a second, down the next mercurial creature knows no rest always in some search and quest sighs with others when others sigh smiles with others in times of joys never follows what I say unlike me she likes to play I am sober, tender, mild she is naughty, wittily-styled I'm mature, she is wild I've grown up but she is child!