Her Story

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She drops like leaves from a tree
Then is blown helplessly around in the breeze.
This is the only way she feels free
This is the only time she's at ease.

Her struggles she bears like Christ
As he did shouldered his grievous load
Wip-lashing shame she faces daily
Trying to fertilize her budding abode.

The church Garden is her only oasis
For it refreshes her on a weekly basis.
Five mouths to feed and struggling
Every week she goes there crumbling.

Once, she had found a rose petal
And caressed it both day and night
Eventually it withered up and decayed
Like her husband whose death was a plight.

More and more the breeze carries her away
Through her thoughts she starts to sway.
Now resting down beneath the tree
The breeze stops, ending her misery.

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