She sits on her own in the ocean,
the girl with the mousy brown hair.
Too timid to cause a commotion,
too plain to truly be called fair.
Shyly sits still, dreams of devotion,
for someone to show that they care.
For love’s such an alien notion
to the girl with the mousy brown hair.
Have you felt what loneliness this is,
sinking solitary into the mire?
Her cracked lips long for kisses,
her heart would burn with desire.
Yet for the girl who nobody misses,
there’s no one to ignite that fire.
Her eyes each hurt from feeling,
ever seeing yet sadly seldom seen.
Her surface must seem so unappealing,
lacking in style, beauty or sheen.
Wounded footprints fade without healing,
departs without you knowing she’s been.
Copyright © 2016 Philip Craddock. All rights reserved.