A Fair Lady Comments
She sat in tattered skirts in mired streets of old.
Who her friend would ever be?
She sat with face pressed to the pane upon the window sill so cold.
Her fair face frozen fast to the pane.
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Her children she had sent to war. There they died in sure defeat. Their writhing bodies in agony replete. Death the final score.......... Lord please deliver me..... what a kind of plea in utter suffering. mental pain. well written and conceptualised. thank you dear poetess. tony
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7/24/2025 8:54:43 PM # 1.0.0
She sat with death! Knowing the ways of mankind today. Nice work.