The Flame of a Girl that Made Me Whole

(Anne of Green Gables)

The perspective of Marilla Cuthbert- a stern hand held open

We asked for help, a sturdy lad,
To work the land, like Matthew had.
A strong back, quiet voice.
Someone useful. Not a girl full of noise.

She came like wind through a window left cracked,
Hair like fire, stories stacked.
She filled the house with dreams and light-
I told myself, “This isn’t right.”

Too much talk,
Too many tears,
No sense, no stillness,
Just shifting gears.

She talked too much, her head was high,
She named the trees, she kissed the sky.
A world of wonder in her gaze,
And none of it in proper ways.

I thought her odd, a bit too loud,
Too quick to laugh, too lost in cloud.
I kept my tone both firm and flat-
She needed sense, not talk like that.

But then she cried- real tears, so raw.
And in that moment, what I saw
Was not a burden, not a task,
But just a girl with none to ask.

No mother's hand, no father's face,
Just dreams she carried place to place.
And something in me, worn and still,
Was moved by more than silent will.

She broke my rules, and yet she mended
Parts of me I thought had ended.
I found myself too slow to scold,
Too quick to care, too soft to hold.

Each day she bloomed, each word she spoke,
Turned something hard in me to smoke.
She painted joy in simple hours,
Made plain things feel like picked wildflowers.

She made me see the world anew
A pond could shimmer, trees could talk too.
The crisp white linens, the rigid day,
She dared to colour them her way.

And I, who never hoped too much,
Began to live beneath her touch.
She filled the cracks I thought were stone-
And made this house a kind of home.

Now if you ask what made me bend
It wasn’t force, it wasn’t trend.
It was a child with hair like flame,
Who filled this house, then gave it name.

She wasn’t what we planned that day-
But love, true love, doesn’t work that way.
She made me hope, she made me see-
That she belonged with Matthew and me