Stranded

She once knew a boy with watercolored eyes,
Bells for laughter and diamonds for smiles.

She used to walk down silents streets,
Nimble tiptoes so she could be discreet.

They said she carried her heart on her sleeve,
Trudging along down those paved streets.

One sunshine dusted day she came home,
And found that the watercolor-eyed boy was gone.

For days she searched passionately,
For nights she cried almost desperately.

The years gone, passed her by,
But time her love did not give her back.

Sorrow turned a pretty girl into a woman,
Turned her wonderful dreams into a plan.

She planned on going out to town,
Of walking the line through the crowd.

She would carry her torn heart on her hands,
Her body, empty, would wait on the sand.

Trade shows, carnivals and parades,
All hungry for the broken heart of the slave.

Desperate to buy, greedy for the sale,
A black heart, dead, dark and stale.

Minutes turned to hours, heartbeats long gone,
She closed her eyes and wished to be left alone.

She had the same clothes she wore,
Same clothes she wore on his last day.

Her hair had grown white, limp and long,
Her mind tipped, empty and forlorn.

They offered her pennies for a black heart,
And on the side, for a love, a contract.

No pact, the girl thought, her voice mute,
Her woes, long-suffered, were too acute.

Yet, the same dress she wore, torn rags,
Just in case her boy would someday come back.

Desperate, alone, so very tragic and unhappy,
Cynical and heartbroken, she sat solitary.

She withered away to sparkling dust,
Floating into the sea with the breaking dawn.

The pretty girl with the heart of molten gold,
Was shattered into stars and sold.

Her boy, a mystery, she couldn't recognize,
A sad disappearance, she too late realized.

And so she left, the grieved heartbroken,
Through the town, people of her spoke often.

She turned into a martyred goddess,
Grieve-stricken by the love she couldn't possess.

Once a woman, now a minute myth,
Folk stories retelling her sorrowful split.

But no one would ever forget the girl of joy,
Who had loved so dearly her precious boy.