If I am envious of one thing,

It is the air of contentment some people have

Ensnaring the eye

Like a stupendous forested cloak

that hides them from worrisome malice

I wish to steal it

for myself

To bask in its warm gladness

Untattered illusion

Undrawn shimmering curtain

Fabric of soothing matters

Lay me down in a beautiful lie

A bed of roses among twisted thorns

For that cloak un-mourned

I’ll be wrapped in scorn-free contentment

I’ll be away from home

That cloak as green as envy

Thick and rich like siren song

It is an air more rapturous than breathing

For the imposter in need of masking,

and the child in need of hiding.

A little girl seeks understanding.