She could not colour between the lines
The edges always blurred
Unlike her friends who coloured clean
And raised their eyes at her
She could not write her pothooks straight
Nor sing pure for the choir
And so the bright girls slipped away
As if they would deny her
She could not paint her face their way
Nor yet her fingernails
And still he loved her as she was
And swore they would not fail
She never coloured between the lines
He never asked her to
He said he loved her as she was
It turned out he spoke true
Between the Lines
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