A Portrait of a Young Lady
Much daunted in her quest for recognition,
She shares a furtive glance with passers by;
And though her heart cries out for comfort
No stranger sees the tears she often cries.
Belittling to those who offer comfort,
She shrugs off those who'd gladly share her grief,
Depriving those who'd be her comfort and protection
Her pride resists all offers of relief.
Her cold room paints her portrait draped in loneliness
And sadness hugs the walls within her room,
But here at least the lady finds some sanity
As she seeks the sanctuary within this womb.
So often has this womb been her companion
And though the ceiling leaks from high above,
She sees the ceiling cries, and as if to sympathise
She sheds the tears that farewell her lost love.
As time erodes her memories and heartache
As pride recedes and heralds loves' rebirth,
She discovers life is true, even when hearts break in two
She now values each new love for what its worth.
Now those who offered comfort are all welcomed,
She grants the passers-by her gift of tears,
For the girl has grown into a woman,
The product of her painful early years.
6th January, 2001
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