In the quiet of our little town,
Where lawns are green and homes are sound,
There lies an unspoken rule or two.
A lady knows them best, let her name be true.

With words that sting but softly land,
She shapes our world with subtle hand.
Her gaze pierces, her voice is stern,
Guarding every step we've yet to learn.

"Fit in, keep quiet," she commands,
In whispers thick as summer's hands.
The echo of her voice will ring
Through walls and hearts where others cling.

Buyers come and go, they don't know why,
But her eyes are sharp, her instincts fly.
She watches, judges every deed,
Deciding fates with silent greed.

She sees the patterns in the crowd,
Where colors mix or fade out loud.
Her heart beats for property values sound,
And whispers of instability abound.

The young and bold she gently steers,
Back to paths where comfort perseveres.
They're warned against rash moves at night,
For that might harm what's deemed right.

Yet, under her veneer so neat,
Lies a dance with shadows fleet.
She turns a blind eye sometimes too,
To what the darkness holds for you.

So here she stands in morning light,
Guarding our streets from what may bite.
A guardian of peace and grace,
Though some might call it hypocrisy's place.

Warmly,
Karen M. Whitmore
HOA Board | PTA Treasurer | ~Wine Mom~
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