She had long, golden, silken hair.
Her skin was pale, oh so fair.
He lips divine, the colour of a deep red wine.
The men would fight for her hand, and for a piece of foreign land.
She was learned and wise in her ways Reading books in Latin, French and English to pass her days.
As well, she could read music, dance in time, play on the Harp a melodious rhyme.
She was a prize, sought far and wide which left the Maiden quite horrified!
She had a plan to pack a bag, run away, make her escape.
Late at night she made an attempt, climbing through the heating vent.
She was outside and past the gate, not knowing where lies her fate.
Left or right, which way to turn?
Would one way be freedom, the
other would she burn?
Decision made, the Maiden turned right and set off at a pace.
She walked all night until the sun came up and showed her she was in a good place.
A glade of beauty with water fall, flowers of every colour, tumbling river with salmon leaping, butterflies pollinating, ladybirds in all their glory.
The fair Maiden pulled out a pocket book and decided to write, short stories, about the beauty of her surrounds.
Her stories were of dragonflies hovering on the pond, frogs on logs in the middle of a bog, bees on flowers, she would write about which creature had the ultimate power.
Then she would draw what she saw and together she made a book all beautifully bound in leather.
Her stories became famous throughout the countryside soon a publisher came calling promising her fame and to sell the books in stores worldwide.
Being a thoroughly modern Maiden she politely declined.  Self published her book, the tools were all online.
And now her books are despatched far and wide bought on the worldwide web.
She has admirers who call at her door, requesting her hand in marriage.
The Thoroughly Modern Maiden politely declines for now she's happy with her choice living in the glade.
She's happy with the lot she has and doesn't need to be saved