Sometimes, wish for the good
Until I remember miserable Victorian ways.
When a friend with size eight shoe,
Size nine felt so good, size ten would do.
Better yet squeezing girdle held artsy waist,
With the hope the lady was full of grace.
Garter belt and clipped hugging hose
Greatest contribution to agony froze.
Dress sandles were a no-no at the time,
No one (except me) would be so sublime.
Power was held by the license,
God help the girl without high places friends.
Or worse yet a Miss of tan and gold
Ambitious, brilliant, but fit no mold.
A child of two races greeted with scorn,
Sometimes wished they were not born.
I hate the grandparents necessary role today,
But, it is better than hiding love child away.
Expelled to an orphanage or worse,
Like something dastardly, or a curse.
If there be guilt to a place,
Abstract old world turn around and face.
Then wielding swords of hate, race, bigotry,
Work we will to a new world that is free.
Pray in this fresh beginning at this time,
There could be balance, gaining new rhyme.
Still and all, this we do know
Righteousness win out, time demands it so.