A tired maiden

A tired maiden, soulful, ravishing and eloquent,

in plain distress, sat and brooded on high hills,

seen her cheery self prance here far too frequent,

dangerously perched on cliff, not for cheap thrills;

lost in grief over the demise of a kindly pet dog,

never seen men mourn departed family so intense,

what thoughtful words to soothe and lift the fog,

she’ll tear any fake tears or shallow pretence;

spell bound as witnessed the beauty in grief,

not shedding a tear, not lamenting, sitting quiet,

shrunken and pale like a withered autumn leaf,

such worry harsh, mix pain and joy, balanced diet;

what made such love and care for a lost pet,

yet none for me who bared all, the day we met.