I first met her in the desert across the sea,
Whilst crumbling down to lifeless light.
She wore mask, white with gems like pea
Yes, it’s the Woman in White.
She took me in, fed me and sheltered me
In a home, ancient yet strong as a tree
Along with others who seemed to have lost their way,
Or some who just needed a home to stay.
Her hair gray, and her fingers withered,
Yet she provides like a mother, truly needed
Come morning, she works for the Masters
Giving service for a few coin of coppers.
Still, she never whimpered nor whine,
Instead, she wore her mask with a pride
Aiding people, assisting, supporting,
whilst attending the masters’ whinging.
Come eve, she’d be back with presents,
That she bought with the scratch of her labors
Which we’ll share with all the others,
While she’d stand and watch like a father.
Come dark, she’ll retire to her room
Stopping in front of a mirror,
To which she’d tear on her loom
As if she witnessed a horror.
Carefully, she’d caress her palm on her face,
Dousing the mask of white and sapphire
Revealing a ghastly verse of recede
And a sorrowed Blue concealed inside.
