She’s lived her life in a fish bowl
Always under another’s gaze
Done as was told year after year
And lost her self in small degrees
She looks back on her once young days
From this view now like tales of yore
When she once had a ‘joie de vie”
Now social mores fill her with fears
She grew up from a girl dirt poor
”Oh good girls don’t” was all she learned
Self taught to yield to make her way
Through ranks of yacht society
But decades passed by all she yearned
Daughter, lover, wife and mother
She dutifully played her role
Her wants pushed to another day
She stifles one, then another
Of yawns that had become the rote
Until she saw yards of bright sails
Unfurl and it just grabbed her soul
Decided she will sail a boat
All have their time and hers was now
“She’ll turn yellow once hands hit helm”
They laughed, for ywis she would fail
But she laughs last standing on bow
As salty winds blow through her hair
She sails on terms all of her own
The thrill of it near overwhelms
Sees horizon and thinks “to there”
For destination’s not the goal
Flying solo upon the seas
This moment hers and hers alone
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Written for today’s
Real Toads Prompt for Today: In the Footsteps of the Suffragettes
National Poetry Writing Month 2016 – Day 8
Raivenne-lations 