Where We Stand. Poem by Shreej k.c

My dear friend Raconteuse
she had a knack in telling stories
she would place herself at comfy druthers
always a step higher than the others
and begin her stories:
'that funny guy like a clown-
the plain jane in the town-
that old wretched fellow-
the poor girl went blue-
the poor guy proved yellow-'

Her stories fascinated and did rock
until a day a query struck,
how could she see everyone so small
when she was not herself too tall?
how could she see everyone too poor
when she was not so rich to soar?

Then I stepped a day to her
place, for a while felt superior
only to find myself in trap,
add to query and see in horror:
Was she an ignorant learned
or a learned ignorant? !
Head spinned, nauseated, about to faint
I quickly got down the step
and felt much better.
There stood my dear friend
nibbling on nut.
Oh! how I missed her
nearly for a minute.