Beatrice hangs on the museum wall
Ruddy full cheeks
Sumptuous lips
Her brown curls looping and lifting
Framing her child face

That is how you looked as a little girl
A man once told me
And for all his faults
All the variety of ways he broke my heart
He was correct about Beatrice

I think of her now
Decades later
Still hanging in that museum room
Surrounded by on lookers
No chance to grow up

Last I heard
They had renamed Beatrice
What a shame
To not only hold her hostage in time
But to also rob her of her name

Nameless, “Girl in Blue Dress”
With no means to protest

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