Baby steps....baby steps.

okay, my blogging friends. I'm wading back into the pool of writers after a lonnnggggg absence. A line from Kien about Harry Halitosis threw a spark my way, and this is what came out. Some critisim, but please make it of the KIND AND CONTRUCTIVE strain, would be appreciated.
Love, APj

Fragilistic, the fragile mystic
Alone again, on the side of the road
Less traveled, (she’s been told)
Feeling so old, so cold
Craving the warmth of the Inn,
And those feelings begin.
Dare she try again? Amen?
Or remain,
Unclaimed (but safe),
on the side of the road.

Fragilistic, the fragile mystic
Her talents widely famed
rarely tamed
Futures and fortunes, before: unnamed
Now unmasked and attained
By the masses, but alasses, not for her.

And oh they come in droves
Bearing treasure troves,
fishes and loaves
inquiring minds, want to know
“is love so?”
and Fragilistic tells them
yes or no.

Ahh, with a sigh
And time gone bye
she remembers the Inn
and time that had been
with him.
Time that had sped, fled, bled
Her dry,
And so, unable to cry,
She turned inside,
Only to converse with her
fragile bones,
alone.

Fragilistic, the fragile mystic
Rises from her abode
On the side of the road.
Steps at first, petulant,
Then only hesitant,
she crosses to the Inn,
Ready, at last, to begin,
Again.