n an old tattered
attic far from here,
There hangs a white dress treasured so dear
It was worn by a girl to a dance long ago,
A pretty girl, very shy, but her eyes were aglow.
Her hair was done, her dress was trimmed,
And the boy across the room looked up and grinned
He asked her to dance and they danced all night,
Then said farewell by the first morning light.
Grandma stopped her story here and never finished the rest,
But a tear rolls down her wrinkled cheek as she clutches the white dress.
Their peaceful world was shattered when bombs began to fly,
He joined the army and then said good-bye.
She never saw him again - her love had died,
But whenever she looks at the white dress, she feels him dancing by her