She lives in a house stripped of laughter br Its once gaudy yard shed its luster br Sadness moved in some long time ago br A lonely twist the world cannot know br Happiness left no trace of itself br Except in the photographs in the shelf br From time to time, nostalgia plucks them out br When the truth of joy she starts to doubt br br She dances on the old boulevards br Where laughter was not extravagance br Remembering the dead mirth brings pleasure br In the midst of regrets beyond measure br She imagines dwelling in a house br Sans the quiet tears of a battered spouse br She mourns deceased goals, immense losses br Yet she stays and hangs from harsh crosses br br The church, neighbors, even family br Say exodus is but debauchery br Ever since the beginning of time br Eve and her daughters had to bear grime br She fears society’s stern rebuke br She hears it from the songs of a brook br The howling wind commands her to stay br The open gate stands to block her way. br br The mistress seems to have lost her mind br Her sanity- who will help her find? br At night, facing the full moon she dreams br Of happiness flowing in wide streams br Too the indulgent house where she lives br Finds distressing all her distrait spells br For dreams she stops from coming to life br Will not bail her out from ill and strife br br But who are we to judge her cravenness br When we too pushed her in her abyss? br Our silence and blindness to her misery br Convicts us for her mammoth tragedy.br br Cheryl L.