Author's Note: For anyone who has read the Canterbury Tales (specifically the prologue), this is a Chaucer-styled introduction to an example of a Modern Day pilgrim.

Oh Inner Beauty

I encountered a woman barely one hundred pounds light,

She resembled a toothpick, if you looked at her right.

Her hair was long and gold, and swung straight down her back

Her tan skin was flawless, not a blemish or crack.

One manicured hand carried a cellular device

Used to bark orders, and with a voice like ice,

She sat there and jabbered about problems so small

I wasn't quite sure if they were problems at all.

Her expression was blank; she was not quick to smile,

Save for that young guitarist who stopped by once-a-while.

About in her twenties, she was a wealthy city girl,

born into money and a trunk full of pearls.

Back in New York she was Editor-In-Chief

and was paid in doses beyond belief.

Yet people still wondered how such a young girl

became the one fashion icon of the modern world.

Her exterior was seamless, down to her feet-

It was her inner assets, however, that were not complete.

Materialistic, ungrateful, bitter and cold,

These traits mixed with her beauty formed tarnished gold.

All those who agree with me, say I,

That this Madame could be lovely if indeed she tried.