A pretty dress that she wore,
But she had worn it before,
And one of the stitches were torn,
But no one knew her.
She always seemed to have good taste,
And at times she lost her place,
As tears streamed down her face,
But no one truly knew her.
She says, “Truth no one has found,
Talk of the town,” talk of the town,
But no one cared for her.
As for her heart she let no one in,
But to her beauty there was no end,
Lost in her mind is where she has been –
Locked in a prison was she.
On and on she would stir about,
And in silence her spirit would shout,
“Unbound my shackles – let me out!”
But the hurt no one saw in her.
And through it all – came this smile,
She was as innocent as a child,
And on a bench she would sit awhile,
But she knew – God was with her!
Thomas Theophilus© January 13, 2025
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