The Dress She Wore

The dress she wore Was tattered and tore Quite well seasoned And not from a store The story in her eyes Like the wrinkles in her face Tell of a terrible time And a much different place But the ink on her wrist Was a dead give away What everyone was thinking And no one would say A dark tortured time She learned to survive By being invisible And averting her eye War took her youth Age her ability But nothing can take Her love or humility The dress she wore Was tattered and tore Quite well seasoned And not from a store