She lays her head on a cushion of stars.
Of all the girls in all the bars
Shockingly stunning.
A voice full of music.
Singing in tune.
A guitar that sings as well as she does.
Sings songs.
For all the shrapnel they chuck.
Every day.
All weather's.
Give her a guitar.
Hear her play.
She's beauty personified.
She lay there sleeping.
Sparkling eyes.
Dreamy and dreaming
Lovely lovely lady friend.
She sits and she sits.
She waits to be free.
In the city they check her out.
Strange looks weird stares.
Who cares.
Nobody knows who she is, under her clothes.
No one's aware what a treasure she is.
Judgements based on external images only.
Why does it matter?
She's wearing her soul on the end of her tongue.
They listen.
They pay.
If they want to
And don't if they don't.
The lady won't be beaten.
Hell no she won't.
Queen of the city,
She waits to be free.
(c)Livvi MMXV