Shall I rise at dawn & scribble my words dipping my fountain pen in ink

If I lived Rosedale in a large bedroom with a French balcony

Confined to my space with the tops of evergreens my only companions

And the servants mamma left to look after me following her death at 104

Mamma had an affair with a hired hand & I am the result

Locked away in splendour purple loneliness

My fantasy was everyone would disappear and Mamma & me would own everything in the stores

And that’s what happened

I was not spoiled as my cruel cousins said

My only friend was a Shetland Pony.

Holy cow, such a juvenile fantasy.

Pre-juvenile