You’ve written me many times; you have many different faces.
You’re blonde. You’re brunette. You wear long skirts; you have tattoos. You wear purity rings; you have wayfarer glasses.
You’re as diverse and vibrant as the autumn leaves: every shape and color, beautiful to those who see you twirling in the winds of life. You’re different.
But there’s a common thread that unites you; something that makes the many into one. You’re one dear girl worried about one hard thing:
Will a good man want me?