Anita's Haven

books, thoughts, stories, poetry, interviews, writing


on 13/12/2015

(I wrote this 2 years ago for grandmas and grandkids. Children see so much in us, and we see so much in them…)

What an adventure the first grade can be –
Your head’s filled with such big news, you see.
But Anne is not worried – she’s been ready way back.
Her mother and father filled in every blank.

‘Listen to teachers and do every task.
Be tidy and nice, if uncertain, just ask .’
So all autumn long, Anne did her best
To acquire new skills and pass every test.

Autumn is over, and everything’s clear,
And, as white as snow, winter is here.
Soon there is Christmas; the party is long,
But Anne keeps humming a very sad song.

Something’s the matter, she knows not what to do,
She can’t learn it from books, and neither could you.
She’s shy and troubled. Who can help? Where to look? 
If only she could find the answer in a book.

She walks to the mirror and looks at her back,
She scratches and hits it, but won’t let anyone check.
She runs down the stairs, then suddenly hops,
But she sadly cries when she finally stops.

What is her problem? What makes her sad?
What kind of advice can there be said?
Lend me your ears, as I tell you why
Anne is so troubled and terribly shy.

Washing the dishes with grandma yesterday,
‘My little angel,’ she heard grandma say.
To grandpa she brought his walking cane,
‘My baby angel!’ he said it quite plain.

Anne brought her mummy coffee and cake.
‘My dear angel!’ mum said, no mistake.
She showed her daddy her new winter hat,
‘As pretty as an angel!’ he praised just like that.

She helped little Billy with homework at school,
And teacher just said: ‘Guardian angels rule!’
Even the neighbour tells her mom every day:
‘Your daughter’s an angel; I mean what I say!’

But Anne is still sad and miserable, too.
What could she possibly give someone true?
She can’t be an angel without any wings!
She hides in the attic and sadly sings.

Something is wrong. She must do more good!
How can she fix it and get out of this mood?
Wingless – she’s fake. She hates it that way.
So her tears keep flowing for the rest of the day.

Till she finds the nerve and to grandma she goes,
Dries tears, clenches fists and tells what she knows.
‘Granny, I’ve a question. Please, tell me right now –
Can I ever learn to be a proper angel somehow?’

‘Oh my dear, but an angel you already are!’
‘From being an angel I am just too far –
I have no wings, and I cannot live a lie.
I am no angel!’ Anne continues to cry.

With a kind look, granny dries Annie’s tears.
She smiles as she sees what the little girl hidden fears.
‘A proper angel cares not about wings,
But watches over you, wipes away all bad things.

His wings grow from heart, and not from his back,
He’s gentle to all and lives to protect.
The whole world is filled with wings we can’t see,
Full of magical angels, like fairies in a story.

Anne listens and looks, as her tears disappear.
She takes grandma’s hand and leads her to the mirror.
‘Granny, I like your wings just the best,
And when I am big, I want wings just like that.’


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