Leunig girl chasing clouds and curlicues

steeped in     silence

feelings well in her eyes

but no matter how hard she tries

they stay deep inside.

She falls in love with dead poets and mystics

she won't throw her flowers at rock n'roll pretenders

she won't congregate at girly nights or cat fights

she's falling in her own imagination.

Her whimsical gait and faraway gaze

seduce the dreamers 

the schemers

looking for gods and goddesses

in a suburban, sentimental confectionary

of the Next Big Thing!

Others get her wrong, but

I can hear the words

she does n't say

I'll protect her from the maddening crowd

shield her form the trauma of shopping malls

epileptic lights and pancake make believe.

Take her to a quiet place

to resurrect her mission

where I will read her zodiac first

give her the bigger half

save the last bite for her

because I think she is     nice

kind of lovely, in a fragile

quirky way. Also 

Because I understand

the ache of songs unwritten

songs not sung and songs forgotten.

One day I will sing her out of her condition

I will sing her free of inhibition

sing her into love. Hold her

When she can no longer stand alone

because     she is a leunig girl   chasing

clouds and curlicues, swinging

her legs and whistling

in her head.