Her hands were cold and wrinkled.
We sat together in the warm breeze
beneath the live oak trees.
She told me of far-away places
and what it is like to be wealthy.
She had been escorted by princes
and ambassadors, and had waltzed
in a royal palace.
Her family had traveled the world
just to find the proper school for
the poor little rich girl.
Her voice quivering, she became
someone else.
She didn't know her name, or mine.
She ranted that I was going to
poison her, and wouldn't drink
the tea; she wept over a broken
doll that wasn't there...
Continuing, she told me of her
extensive schooling, of museums,
and galleries.
"Always," she said, "always
maintain your dignity, my dear."
Last night I called each of my children
to tell them how much I love them.
I know that, beyond my sight, lie many
uncertainties.
I pray my greatest fears will never
invade my life, but, if they do,
I want my children to remember,
above all things, the love.