Constellation Poem by Jacqui Broad

If you think you know me, by the way I speak,
or write the language of my mother-tongue,
I then, must be forthcoming as very weak,
for in my heart, I'm still very young.
I shall recognise my face in any reflection,
the lines of worry, I alone shall see.
I shan't beg for sympathy, nor affection,
I shan't keep my feelings safe in a secret diary.
My stairway of stars leads only one way,
the climb in status is my own to climb.
And to think it will all be a waste one day,
when all I want, for the moment, is words to rhyme.
Drifting in a world I do not understand,
I can only grasp God's reaching hand.