A Girl Of Nine!

I neither claim to be a perfect being
nor a person free of flaws
my heart is made of rebel stuff
it does not follow laws
somewhere inside I keep a child
who does never grow
She has her silent tantrums wild
which mostly unattended go
In me resides that girl of Nine
you can say second self of mine
she is in contrast with me
when all leave, she lasts with me
she’s always clad in painted frock
and loves to watch the birds’ flock
painted hair in pony-tails
silky-textured ribbon tied
same in nature Maggie-like
sharp in wit and moods wild
up a second, down the next
mercurial creature knows no rest
always in some search and quest
sighs with others when others sigh
smiles with others in times of joys
never follows what I say
unlike me she likes to play
I am sober, tender, mild
she is naughty, wittily-styled
I’m mature, she is wild
I’ve grown up but she is child!