As Always, With Chagrin
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Dark hair in ringlets softly frames her face,
the style her mother likes to see her wear,
and her new gown looks pretty trimmed in lace
while near the wall, she occupies a chair.
She gazes at a crowd of boys and girls -
the boys, like small men, dressed in shirts and ties;
the girls, like her, dolled up, their hair in curls.
What thoughts might lie behind her dark jade eyes?
Young women not yet asked to dance have flocked
together. Seeing her, they burst into
a fit of giggles. Is she being mocked?
She drops her gaze, unsure of what to do.
Her hope, a tiny bird, away has flown.
As always, with chagrin, she sits alone.
Posted Aug. 7, 2017 for Ever Roper's "She Sits Alone" Poetry Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2017
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