Fairy Tale
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I find my mind slipping back, I bought the whole sweet story In innocence,I trusted, I did not see two strangers, And since they were so flawless,
I believed the pretty story, When other illusions shattered, Now, finally, I’m learning, That Mr. and Mrs. Perfect, That you worked at happy endings
The children and the Mothers Now I sit in wonder, The unreal dreams of yesterday, 6/11/93 © Robin K. Westbrook
to when I was young, I thought and free,
I still believed in fairy tales,
and black and white dichotomy.
of the perfect family,
I watched “Leave it to Beaver”
I believed in “Donna Reed.”
when they took my child away,
That “God” was the childrens bureau
and let my fears, be stayed.
rather, angels, from above,
A Mr. and Mrs. Perfect,
who gave perfect love.
then the truth must surely be,
that my child would be better off
with these two, than me.
Yet my grief was oh so stong,
(I thought the grief was something else,
about me,that was wrong)
I held on to this one,
for somehow I had to be at peace,
and content with what I had done.
that the once fool-proof charade,
was make-believe and tinsel
a Thanksgiving Day parade.
That faultless, flawless pair,
Lived as humans in the same old world,
and breath the same hot air.
that there were no guarantees,
that we all need to open eyes,
and hearts and minds to see…
as they, all three, truly are,
Lives altered by a fairy tale,
Hopes hung upon a star.
and hold my daughters hand,
and hear her call me “Mother”
at last I understand.
and I can’t let them be,
I no longer need their fairy tales
the truth was inside of me.