A girl sang. She was no ordinary girl. Just a mere shadow of what she used to be. Frail, barely alive she was, but she could sing. What earth-no, what forest-no! The very mountains would sway to the lull of her song. But the song she does sing, and it is always the same one, is sad. Never angry, nor happy, but sad. A song that makes you cry tears when you hear it. No one knows her story, but it must be an unhappy one, for she never seems to get any older. Always, trapped in the body of a shivering girl.

She doesn't leave her room. The tower room she spends her days and nights in is always dark. She sleeps by day, and sings by night, the soft backdrop of the stars illuminating her song. She could fly from there if she wanted. Just float through the open window with a magic all her own. But she chooses to stay and sing, as if bearing the world's sorrow on her small shoulders.

Her song is sung in a language long forgotten, it's people dead and it's cities destroyed. But the translation is so:

Love

Why do you reject me?

I am your own daughter, your own flesh and blood

Yet you cast me away as though my worth is nothing

All I ever wanted was for you to love me

You refused

So now I wait for love to find me, broken and shattered

Always and forever for you

One day she'll begin to fade, as a well worn cloak loses it's color. You'll see through her to the moon, which she sung by dutifully for so long every night. But she'll be gone. Her spirit used to it's last extent, will release it's grief, and she will fly. Float silently out the window, and gently fade away....