Nevievv, the Russian Princess.

Nevievv, the Russian Princess. Proudly and regal, her Russian descent, Bubbly, or just flaky her temperament. Her voice’s from above, she talks down to you. Her gaze above her nose is all that you knew. A queen of the trivial, a social princess, In smallest details she tends to obsess What’s true and what’s good she always confuses The good ones she drops and the bad ones she excuses. She talks a good talk, at what she can’t be surpassed You thought she was iron, but was only glass You’d think she’d had more going on for herself than a collection of failures piled up on a shelf. She leisurely ponders, with zero preamble in fear and doubt, she saunters, she ambles She worries and scurries and after she rambles She opens, she clams up and after she scrambles To her everything seems overly important But then for four Weeks she hides or lays dormant, She carries the weight of her life on her back What’s big it’s what’s small and it all turns jet-black And Love and anger, and pity, and sorrow I feel For this little princess, who’s lost in the reel Not trusting herself she spins in this wheel of the wagon she fell off and started the ordeal. ACD 11/3/22….