Store your stories,
of days filled with belief.
Remember those memories,
not tarred by grief.
Days when naive faith in fairies
would offer solace and relief.
Moments, when a stranger’s presence
ensued a calm smile.
Without alerting your defense,
or making you agile.
Times, when with a touch,
you were with safety blessed.
When with fear, your fists didn't clutch,
or about your dress, you fussed.
Days, when trust came easy,
and safety was found in a crowd.
When stares didn't make you queasy,
and when with panic you weren't cowed.
Sisters, treasure those memories, For those days are gone.
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