Flowers are for Princesses

I collected my bags
and ran.

I ran past my friends
giving them and airy adieu
and ran out of the room.

I ran past a star, a true princess,
who was smiling receiving flowers.
Those flowers were once mine,
even though I was never a princess.
He had told me I was once.
I always wanted to be.
I’m not sure if I ever wanted the flowers.

I continued to run
down the hall and up the stairs.
I ran past families:
parents, grandparents, and of course their children.
I met my father in the lobby.
He told me that I was “well above average”,
and handed me flowers.

He never said I was a princess.

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