Grace

I don't have an elegant bone in my body.

I laugh too loudly.
I swear too much.
I walk too fast.
I stand too straight.
I have too wild hair.
I cry too often.
I don't turn away when you meet my eye.

Sometimes I wish I were cool, sweet, calm and odourless. That I could wear a pale summer dress without staining or wrinkling it. That my hair would stay in place for more than five minutes. That I were tall and slim, fine limbed. That I could walk gracefully down the street.

But only sometimes.