Hunched over in position, picking things up off the ground.
A penny for a pebble, will get her food that day.
Searching for the things she peddles, passes time away.
She wasn't always like this, luck so down and out.
Was a time great beauty, had kissed her on the mouth.
She danced in moonlit gardens, in the arms of love.
Then the war it took him, to someplace far above.
Her heart it slowly closed off, her soul wandered away.
She became content with struggle, and she struggled every day.
She knew they talked about her, whispered hurtful things.
Her story they knew nothing, it didn't matter anyway.
She owned a little shack, on a little bit of land.
Keeping to herself, she lived by her own hand.
Never a friend did visit, no family was around.
She was content with loneliness, and alone she was found.
The fateful day the village folk, hadn't seen her smiling face.
They suddenly remembered the woman, they looked upon in disgrace.
And wandered forth to find her, and bring her bread and jam.
Was to late they discovered, for she was now with him.
She lay there curled in her bed, stiffened by the cold.
They realized quite quickly, she wasn't very old.
Lashes long and dark, lay soft against her cheek.
A smile sweet upon her lips, made it look she was asleep.
As they looked around the room, tears fell from their eyes.
A woman they had never known, alone here she had died.
A single picture in a frame, seemed to snap them to.
A beauty and an army man, with the words "Dear, I love you."
They realized their grave mistake, in that second on that day.
Of never knowing the woman, life took to soon away.
The moral of this story, is simple as it's true.
Just do unto others, as you would have done to you.