THE MAIDEN
A maiden fair,
through the meadow she skips-
cheeks a-glowing,
hair a-flowing,
the memory of his
kiss upon her lips.
Playfully she twirls around,
she plucks a daisy
from the ground.
He loves me, loves me not-
he does!
She sings his name
to the birds in the sky,
she smiles as she
tells the butterflies.
The sun is shining,
her heart is pining-
she can't wait till
they meet that night!
She runs to the hill-
to the maple tree,
so she can see
their initials that he
so deftly carved into the bark-
where they kissed till
it was almost dark.
As she came to
the top of the hill,
she saw a sight
that to this day still
will make her
cry into the night-
she stopped and stared
at the couple there-
she realized the daisies lied.
The lips she loved
upon another,
a girl with long and
flowing hair.
A gasp escaped her lips-
the same lips
that sang her love
to the birds in the air,
to the clouds above.
As they turned to look at her,
she turned away to run.
She heard her name
called on the wind.
She spun around
to look at him.
Their eyes met-
his dry, hers wet.
His lips parted,
but uttered not a sound.
She turned again
and sped away,
knowing there were
no words to say.
Across the meadow she did run
as if running from the sun
that rose on this day-
the day her true love died.
The day she was betrayed,
and the daisies lied.