In London Town Pt Two
The child Seraphine was three
With Mary Grace unfailingly
Devoted to her daughter's care
But now a shell of one so fair
Her laugh was not so deep and free
And she would sleep so painfully
That Seraphine was known to cry
Or plead for help from passersby
Eventually, no empty stares
Could rectify her daughter's cares
And Mary Grace resolved to face
Another time, another place
The summer sun was boiling hot
Like butter boiling in a pot
As Mary Grace retraced the path
That once replaced her mother’s wrath
Though Mary Grace was wont to cry
Before a sad but scathing sky
She sang a song of sweet repose
To bring her life a peaceful close
The scarlet sun was sinking still
Before a twilight's fading frill
When Mary Grace went down the walk
That once disgraced a shady block
They sat beside a garden gate
Where beauty matters more than fate
And flowers bloom but never sigh
Except for those who hurry by
Now Mary held her daughter tight
Which helped them both to sit upright
And with a deep, determined strength
She found the words to speak at length
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