The dew-bright eye knew,
The stars whispered of it,
Those by her spoke of it,
She was just a shoulder, always.

They were wrong, yes
The sunlit skies were silent nevertheless,
They ignored her tears,
The tears of the loving, who was never loved.

The red-breasted bird sought her out once,
He sat at her window sill,
Enquiring with a lopsided stare,
Why her countenance echoed with misery

The leaves rustled in comfort,
The roses climbed over her fence,
Seeking to brush away the diamond tear,
To see those cheeks brighten with a rosy smile.

The quill knew the words,
The paper weeped ceaselessly,
The ink thought and thought,
The fate of a girl who was a word, but never a poem.
© Elena

#Love&love #Life&Life #musing #quote #poem #WritcoQuote #writcopoem