Sonnet A grand ball!

       

                     A grand ball!

I remember when life was a grand ball

at least for girls with their frivolous robe

flashy dresses no gentleman could resist

but every man was not gentle and artist

The rich ones were parents' favourite bet

it did not matter if your opinion was beset

high tenor of life was a symbol of a family

they had of course to assure its continuity

Misery came out of protest 'n subversion

a few escaped facing distress 'n affliction 

thrown out into the street hurt and torn

black servants lived better than them all

The remaining paraded in the grand halls

looked past the hurt holding dreams 'n all

all daughters would be free in the morrow

to make a home and be rid of their sorrow

©misspoetmiki  words only