She spends her time scribbling away
Without stopping
Obsessed
Night and day
In a room with walls of books
People  nod and  say
With an odd look on their faces
You know
She is loony as a tune

Where does she find all these words
And why
What becomes of them
When she loosens them to fly
Who knows where they will land

Topics and memories
People care not to remember
As they look away and try to forget
While she paints their life with her pen
Much to their protests and chagrin
In a small room she writes
As they whisper in retaliation
She is loony as a tune

True perhaps lacking in finesse
Laughing at solemn occasions
When she should be crying
One day the picture of health
The next day dying
All done with the pen
Telling the truth or lying
Actress or poet
Who knows for certain
With a person they say
Is loony as a tune

Walking around in clothes
No one else dare
Aghast
People stop and stare
Unkempt wild wind blown hair
Dancing round under a full moon
In the sweet night air
Perhaps I am loony as a tune



This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base.  All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3),
Tammy M Darby