This Was She

This Was She

Beneath the sturdy frame that some called fat,

Exists a delightful creature, sublime, svelte, willowy,

Gracious and graceful, elegant and ladylike.

This was she as she believed deep down she was.

This was she as she hoped and dreamed

She would one day discover that she was,

In reality, not some image, designer-made,

Who peopled her nights with starlight rendez-vous

And handsome men who begged to baise her hand.

Indeed, this was she as she really was, in thought

And gesture, in all the halls of fairy tales

Where time had no meaning and reality

Even less, for changing forms was child’s play

When everything was made of gossamer dreams

Draped from the limbs of baobab trees

And gathered at the waists of slim dryads

Who inhabited the forests of her never-never land.

So she carried herself with the self same pride,

The same belief in what could be,

And people saw and felt the power of this self,

This other person no one saw but conjured

From her very powerful presence in their midst.

That day, although she never knew it,

She became the woman of her dreams

And this is she today, so long as she believes.