Dottie stands silently
With glazed over eyes
Her ruffly dress
Is full of dust
And filth
And ought to be too small
After all this time.
If only someone
Cared enough
To cast off
The worn out frock
And clothe her anew.
Behind a face
As white as alabaster
And cheeks and lips
Of rose
Memories
That should be gone
Still linger.
Then was a life of luxury.
A life of gowns
And jewels.
Every day Catherine
Would take her
By the hand
And whisk her off
Into marvelous adventures
Of untold riches
And ancient magic kingdoms.
Oh, to feel the warm touch
Of a friend,
Even if it was only
One
Last
Time.
And Catherine would
Dance
With Dottie,
Twirling under the streaming light
Of crystal chandeliers,
Dottie's sky eyes
Glittering.
There was no tomorrow
Then.