Let rains set in and kill the untimely weed,
So that in true season, may marigolds lead.
And thus she conveniently knells to retreat,
Before our etiquettes and unjustified needs.
Taught finely to read, write and criticise;
She is aware of all that there is in the sky.
Yet she seeks reason before she cries
Even before nursing dreams in her eyes.
Were she to exist or were she to remain?
Were she to comfort or question the pain?
And while she dealt with strains and restrains,
The ages quietly drizzled down like rain.
From there it seemed like an easy world;
From here, long gone is that pretty girl.
Her mascara, her pearls, her fancy dresses
Can hardly make up for her grey tresses.
-KG
