Canoeing past a forgotten maiden in an abandoned cemetery
off the White Mouth river

Do you see her there hidden mid the branches all entwined,
Her concrete robe adorned by wild rose and wavy grass?
Notice how the maiden clutches her broken vase,
And gazes from behind her flowers and twisted thorns?
Her keep is discovered only by strangers such as I,
Bored with watching ripples trail from my paddle’s thrust.
See the sparrows fluffed in sun sitting upon chipped shoulders,
Taking their turns by generations to nest cradled in her vase?
Thus she holds her vigil until time crumbles to the ground,
This maiden and her vase.

K

OHHHHH I like that!!! You just made her a monument, and in living color!

Very nice!