~~oOo~~
Beauty on the inside.
By Sandra Stoner Mitchell

I have a story, sad to tell, but one the world should know,
about a happy, privileged town, where you might wish to go.
The buildings were so colourful, domed castles everywhere;
and flowers bloomed the whole year through, their perfume filled the air.

The people had their heart's desire and lived it every day;
the children only had to ask for it to come their way.
But that was many years ago, their laughter has long gone,
the sun's been banished from this town, now rain goes on and on.

You see, one day a woman came, so tired, old and worn,
with ravaged face, despairing eyes, her clothes unwashed and torn.
But when she begged for food and drink, some straw to make her bed;
the people gathered sticks and stones and drove her out instead.

It's said that's when the rains began, and grey skies hid the sun;
the people lived a blighted life, a curse touched everyone.
The pall now serves as penance for their ugly inner sin,
for beauty on the outside is no good if not within.

~~oOo~~