What do I write about her
a girl artless mundane
fading years don't heal her scar
can't bury her smoldering pain.

Yet can't keep her out of mind
shut her behind closed door
time and again a place she finds
her face comes to the fore.

A bird she was dreaming a nest
a home and cold night's hearth
one shoulder to perch for rest
a caring heart to berth.

How cruel is the worldly way
that denies a soul of peace
shatters a life leads hopes astray
grants not the smallest wish.

For one night the moon was hers
stars bloomed in her eyes
till dreams broke by a monstrous curse
lay dead in the first sunrise.

She still lives a lonely spinster
on the ashes of long dead fire
her empty heart begs not a care
love she never aspires.