Bossy

She strides the office floor, a crown of confidence,
Her voice a clarion, sharp as morning dew,
Demanding order in each whispered sentence,
Turning chaos into tidy, polished view.

Colleagues brace beneath her steady gaze,
Notes flutter like startled sparrows in flight,
Yet in her command there’s a hidden blaze—
A fierce desire to see things done just right.

She maps the day with ruler‑straight lines,
Allocates each task with military grace,
Turning “maybe” into firm “must‑be‑shines”,
And bends the weary clock to her own pace.

Bossy, perhaps, but borne of earnest care,
She sculpts the team like clay upon a wheel—
Firm hands that shape, yet never spare
The gentle nudge that makes the dull feel real.

So let her orders ring, crisp and sincere,
For in her stern directives lies the seed
Of progress born where doubt once lingered near—
A bossy heart that leads, and all succeed.