This the Trust Is
She the Fatima, always drew you in her soul, Throu her unique ways, and aye,hosted you Closer as an infant; in her wedding shawl. She a lady of lofty falls, played bare in blue Nights and sleep lately,as candles kept burning, And life's pleasent journey end in blights. Ahh, the Lady, was fond of black sandals, a turning Came when kids received their wits; then bites Befell, in that vineyard of sweet loves, And doctor aforesaid; It's a kind of hysterics O love! no-no, it was your love towards-kids, In latter,years of life those sweet burns, came to light, Blessful Lady! "had you lived few years more" Overhere are the beetles; new things, this the truth is----