Authors Note: This was written on my sixteenth birthday, just recently. I may not want to be 16, but I guess I have to make the best of it. I didn't think I would have 'done' so much by the time I was 16 years ago, but I have, and I like being who I am- even if who I am happens to be 16.
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Obviously didn't get them for my birthday, but Winterfest and Christmas and Winter Solstice and all the other winter holdays ARE coming up... hint hint.
Sweet Sixteen
Today's my birthday.
Sweet sixteen and never been kissed.
Oh, but I've done so much more.
I've walked the moors
with a detective and a doctor,
in search of a Hound.
I've waited, impatiently
for an Inspector to come to his
incorrect conclusions.
I've cheered him on
when he got one right.
I've walked the streets
of a London now gone,
broke into houses
of rich men and women.
I've been fitted for dresses
with corsets and petticoats,
and spent hours
doing up boots.
I've sat by the fire
and worried,
desperate for them to be safe at home,
and scolded them when they arrived.
I've brewed tea,
fetched blankets,
organized papers,
located pipes,
and rescued the unsuspecting.
I've cried quietly
when the pain was too great.
I wailed and sobbed,
when the missing of him
got too much.
I've scoured the papers,
searched for the books,
searched for references,
tried my best
to make my own deductions.
I've sighed- with longing,
with pity and exasperation,
and with love.
Always with love.
But I've danced
across a gas-lit floor,
in a dress made just for me,
and smiling so much
my cheeks hurt from it.
And I've watched from the shadows
as someone intervenes, and,
finally,
sets it all,
right.
As always, reviews more than welcome. I review- why don't you?
