- When Stature Is a Form of Grace - 6
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WHEN STATURE IS A FORM OF GRACE
Red hair,
skin sweet apple,
Her face like a geisha
quiet yet armed with falcon eyes
You'll see.
His nose:
sharp like a knife.
Alone, she has no friend,
was this the way she's meant to be
shadowed?
Lonely
with hurt anew
she sighs deep like furnace
with only a dolesome ballad
to sing.
For she
was different,
demure in every way,
stature becomes a form of grace
within.
She chafe
folks that bore her,
their slanderous tongues.
Have they no grace nor some respect
to care?
Actions
where life pulsates
demands each to play roles
yet still, when silence roars, hear
echoes.
Truth ~ lies
all mixed in one,
baffling the people,
leading the narrow minds astray,
wonky!
__________________________________________________
Inspired by: Theater by Mary Cassatte 1879
__Olive Eloisa D. Guillermo__
4:26 pm, January 19, 2015
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2016
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