Waking up from the lifelong dirge for the woman who never was,

Seeing instead a glimmer of the girl who showed herself,

Before men were men and women were women, 

And tried honeysuckle off the fence at the back of the schoolyard,

And played pretend under the tree that she was blond like the others,

The woman that is may cry a bit for her missing years in-between,

But never forget to shake the dust off her memories of the girl that was.