A young maiden, yes just a girl,
Stops and watches the stories unfold:
She sees those of a girl and her only one, and that of a king’s son
And she knows, without her, they’d continue untold.
She sits and watches, entranced by these foreign lives,
Dedicating both night and day-
She sits, penning; unwittingly held prisoner.
Her worlds sit still, while their time is wasting away.
The woman, a girl no longer,
Forever attempting to write fulfillment into a page-
Has lost sight of what makes a life
Blindly, she has aged.
One day she looks up- wakes up,
Finally sees the other woman bored of waiting-
Happy and free, she’s outside singing for all to see.
She puts aside paper and pen, knowing her worlds won’t spoil or age,
Stepping outside, she joins her love- and together happy they will be.
YOU ARE READING
The Secret Life of Thought
PoetrySometimes we don't say a word because our mind is too full of them. These pages hold just a few of those.
