She

She was dressed plainly,
Simple cotton peasant frock,
She didn’t wish for more,
Satin and lace were not hers.

Smudges of her solitary work
Showed upon brow and cheek,
They seemed almost proper
Even fitting with her smile.

She walked the miles to town,
She sold her wares for tuppence,
They were simple but good,
Complain, her customers never did.

They shared hellos
And even some how are yous,
She remembered their dates,
Their names and their likes.

But her name…hmm,
And her dates….shrugs,
Or her likes….no,
No one could tell.

One day she did not come,
One week she was not there,
One month that was all,
There was no memory at all.

 

Photo by Tong Nguyen van on Unsplash