There lived a poor woman.
She hadn't a dime in her pocket.
She knew not when she would eat.
Her roof lay a blanket of stars.
Lying in the twilight.
Gazing up at the budding moon.
Stars would twinkle as then appear.
Songs of nature she would hear.
She had not one fear.
Not like other's scared of night.
The blanket of Heavenly mysteries,
They were her atmosphere.
Her beacon of light.
If each night the stars came out.
Just as light fights darkness.
Ways of the world are,
Written By, Melody Wilson ©2011