Still

Her voice does not gather
The animals of the forrest.
Her face is not the beauty
That shook the world.
Her body is not the
Reflection of perfection.
She is not the princess
In the old fairy tales.

But still she sings
When no one is listening.
Still she gazes
In mirrors of white.
She continues to wrap
Herself in rich fabrics.
And she wears a crown
Of wisdom on her head.