She speaks of love,
what little she's had;
her words echo,
lost, alone, and sad.
Why do not the Gods
comfort her and  sing?
maybe she has no hope;
in what they say and
things they bring.
A prayer is silent,
tossed in  the wind;
and woe continues,
without an end.
One day, her prince,
might come;
and straighten out,
the things undone.
A surprise to her,
and no one else;
dreams come true,
of what she's felt.
Love is patient,
love is kind;
first in the heart,
then in the mind.