She had short, golden hair
Tied neatly behind
With a blue satin-scarf.
And yet I saw her
Wearing a diadem
And a flowing satin gown,
Like a princess.

A meek, submissive smile
A movement of her fair hair
Akin to a Bolshoi ballerina
In moments of embarrassment and coyness.
Her blue Allemanic eyes, sweet and honest
They knew no intrigue,
Neither treachery nor rebellion.
‘I was brought up to obey, ’ she whispered.

Pure bliss and love sublime,
A book you could read.
Plain and straight,
And not in-between the lines.

An openness, and yet
She's resolute and seeks
Perhaps stability
Or security?

A neglected childhood
With pain and punishment.
A legacy of the Black Forest