they call her gold
but truth be told
she never got anything better
than a silver sweater
to keep out the cold

snuggle up in her soul
and still they called her gold
with empathy as warm as wool
yet they never chose that girl
but they would gladly keep her fold

so badly wanting to be best
in a world of significantly less
not a vest of silver, nor of gold
but a friendly waiting hand to hold
and a love so deep confessed

the winters came and the summers went
no longer would she wait for them
drying up eyes so filled with tears
she ripped away a lifetime of fears
and herself did reinvent