She sits among the ivy leaves,

Shielded from the midday sun.

The embodiment of solitude,

Days gone to pass and those to come.

They placed a rose in her hand,

Thornless with age, a marble bud.

Lips and tears mirrored silent shades,

Of absences, loss and scarlet blood.

Her head held high, eyes look down,

A tribute to the chalice.

Frozen youth, her absent smile,

Longs for life outside the faerie palace.

She watches strangers come and leave,

Like seasons, admires pass her by.

Laughing, halfheartedly the wind proposed,

Then left her lonely to the night.

The songbirds taught her how to sing,

But her lips were not made to part.

Notes that belong to the living,

Cannot touch a stone cold heart.

She sits among the ivy leaves,

Shadows cast, dancing, by the moon.

Waiting patiently for another day.

And another sunrise soon.