I am as steady as a forest of old Oak trees,
Yet wavering like a willow in the warm summer breeze

Chatty like a parrot who talks all day,
Timid as a mouse with little to say

Vivacious as fuschia pumping blood through my veins,
Somber like blackness when no light remains

Genuine and natural like the earth beneath my toes,
Unpredictable as the wind and which way it blows

Complex like a hydrangea with its intricate form,
Simple as a daisy never straying from the norm

Contemporary like the computers found in my home,
Old-fashioned as my grandmother’s favorite rotary phone

Comforting like chicken noodle soup to make every illness heal,
Disturbing as moldy cheese in France served for every meal

As contradictory as it may be,
I am all of these things and all of these things are me.