by Deborah Rose
Baboo? Baboo, what did I do?
I didn’t say that. I didn’t mean to.
I was running around and my energy grew –
I whistled at every parrot that flew
through the bobbing branches the tired breeze blew.
But then you… you…
you called me, Baboo,
and I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to.
I looked up at the sky, a perfect blue;
ferns smiled and waved –
I chased dart frogs through.
In our heart of hearts we both knew I knew
that you would be trying to
catch me, Baboo.
My heart pounded and my head felt askew.
I’m sorry. What I shouted… it wasn’t true.
It’s not hatred I feel, I’m just so sick of you!
I wish you could see things from my point of view:
the world’s so alive, so vibrant, so new.
I want to laugh, to dance, not be told what to do.
Stop it.
Stop it.
Stop it, Baboo!
I’m lost and alone and I want to go home
and I haven’t a clue
which path to pursue.