Outsider poem.

OUTSIDER

She never tied a sweater around her neck
or wore knee-length kahki skirts.
She didn’t know how to tease her hair
and she didn’t know how to flirt.
She wasn’t that skinny, and
she wasn’t that tan.
and her hair wasn’t streaked with gold.
She couldn’t play Tennis and she couldn’t
play Bridge.
She just didn’t fit in the mold.
She wore Daddy’s shirts
with long full skirts
and her hair went along with the breeze.
She didn’t own any very fine things.
Cashmere made her sneeze.
She never tied a sweater around her neck
or wore knee-length khaki skirts.
She walked barefoot along untaken paths,
but sometimes the sticks and stones hurt.

Janet Brice Parker