Miscast (Poetry)

I wanted you to be my ‘Alice’.
I wanted you to be the one
that all my tales of sweet princesses
were, in some way, based upon.

But you showed very little pleasure
more a half-concealed disdain
for every narrative I offered
each one failed, then failed again.

I have them all — those dedications
to a childhood long-passed through.
They brown like leaves, dried out and blowing
from a tree you never knew.

Maternal love’s imagination
grappled with cold glaring proof —
You never were my darling ‘Alice’
Far too heartless. That’s the truth.