Riches to Rags

She never felt entitled, a toddler who grew

in a house with high ceilings,

three chandeliers, perfect wooden floors

covered in thick oriental rugs.

Long red curls on her pristine white collar

of her very best dresses,

her mother’s doll put on display at the country club,

a porcelain face to be put on a shelf.

She never felt entitled, a woman who grow

when a family was broke by the loss of a father.

Penniless she left to start anew, finishing her degree

in a dingy apartment she could afford.

She returns to her childhood home,

rugs now worn flat, only when her mother asks.

Her riches to rags, an anomaly she doesn’t mind.

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