Here I sit dressed in the same old rags as yesterday. Still poking at the ashes I made of my life. How dirty, what filth. How I want to go to the Ball like all the other girls. But I can't go dressed like this? Then the Lord delivered my engraved invitation. You Lord, heard my concerns and gently tended to my needs. You clothed me in the richest gown. I stand with the pile of soot behind me, a reminder of a past burned beyond recognition. You keep no evidence. I made it to the Ball just as my arrival is announced...."Tiffany Page Wylie Conn, daughter to the King of the Most High". Escorted on your arm of transformation midnight is no longer my warden for Your waltz never ends.
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