Ette Poem by Cee Bea

so it began, as I held Ett'e to this high station

and she held herself down.
the facts began to sprout like leaks
from a old yard hose run over to many times
but I did not mind,
it was the delivery not compromised
that kept the standard.

never mind her faith, never mind her facts,
just 'never mind' was what pursed within earshot
from her lips, well bitten.

it became offensive
as it defined the narrow crevice she dauntingly and carefully clung to,
never nearly as afraid as I when looking down.
Rather tauntingly she navigated within her hold
as if upon a tightrope, within the bright lights,
amidst the OOO's and Ahhhhs and gasps as she,
by script would flitter and flounder to make well, the price of admission

in every show, brightly staged,
the costumes were lovingly sewn…
and I found this dream that once felt like it had every other time before,
now felt new,
even when repeated
daily,
weekly
and now yearly.

The stage was always lovingly set,
but after time, the crowds drew dim,
the seats carried no money

but the show, well…the show always went on.