There lay at nite this little trite
her dreams her bunnies her bows,
all struck at night, there tragedy striked,
her heart her will were torn...
She smiled so bright and fought the fight
her heart she mended - it shone!
She played it right she strived she tried
At last she laid it - worn...
She saw one hope, its glimmer like dope
which burnt her sight, entire feelings alight
she tossed and turned, twisted, forlorn,
then looked and searched, her questions all scorned
Her soul once 'bused, then bruised, then used,
Lied yet in wait for that wily fate,
so as not to yearn, to accept the lesson learnt
What only God could have always,
He only always, truly discerned!