I am young, beautiful,
But often, I am wearing
An old bathrobe
With belt missing,
That has seen better days.
Trying to be invisible,
I clutch the robe around me,
As I slink through a room
Full of well-dressed people.
I wish I might stroll elegantly
Among the glittering crowd,
Dropping "bon mots,"
But no--
Always I am the princess, unrecognized,
Searching for my prince
Who will see beyond the shabby clothes
To the inner perfection.
(c)Margaret Peck Latham 2010
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