Lost love

Waiting for the Prince

Her hair is grey now
A sliver curtain that graces her back.
Hands and face etched with the map of her life,
but telling nothing.

The chair creaks as she rocks back and forth,
Watching the sunset, her evening ritual.
She watches the sun sink into the west
but sees nothing.

She remembers them all now,
a soft smile curving her mouth.
Her suitors, young, old and middle aged,
but they tried for nothing.

She was waiting for him, you see.
The prince to ride up on his white charger
to rescue her,
but her hopes are nothing.

He never came, her prince.
The man of her dreams deserted her,
to nighmares and waste and in the night,
she cries out at nothing.

She still waits for him, blind eyes
scanning the horizon. Hopes raised
and dashed a thousand times or more,
battling nothing.

The chair rocks back and forth
and she waits.

She waits.

She waits for nothing.