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Frosted Pale

Sarah, from next door
came by today

whining in two languages now
expecting a rosetta stone
to translate her life into a fairy tale

neighbors, all around
a fact for pack people
how do I, a loner, oblige

a single rebuff
and instantaneous war
enemies du jour
extremist of the hurt feeling

so, I insist she sit
hoping a sullen mood
will restrain her from engaging in
chittering histrionics
trying to make a story

she doesn't stay long
too antsy
too curious
or, if I dare say, a busybody
by nature, troubled
and that means
there is trouble ahead for me

I've got to learn how to build
better fences

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 


You have captured the subtle nuances of the tedium, the frustrations and irritations of these so-called chance, "neighborly" encounters!
Nice write.... A poem that verges on prose, but captivates a "short story"


I could see Sarah sitting there trying to pry into your life, looking for something to gossip about to the neighbors. I find that most people like her, are best left on the doorstep, and you wave to them when you see them, but have a stockpile of things to do when they come calling. Nice try Sarah! LOL. Good work. ~ Gee

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