Her Lament

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

The story is about a happy young maiden with beauty and innocence too hard to ignore until life takes its course that ultimately changes her forever.

Dear reader,

Hope you enjoy the poetic prose and the writing style.


In a village was born a maiden full of passion, life flowing through her veins.

 People compared her to the moon but stopped abruptly as they realize the moon had blotches and wasn't worthy of comparison.

As she grew into a fine lady beholding side glances that behaved as Cupid's arrows and curves so elegantly tucked under fabric to hide her vase-like figure, lads' hearts were melted and their eyes were cast to spell.

She married into the rich for what was the point of having a beautiful daughter unless she could use her charms to marry an old man with pockets full of gold.

She now had jewels to decorate her branch-like arms and dresses as silky as honey.

Her lips were colored with the brightest tinctures and her long hair done by maids of her very own.

Gazing at his lovely wife, the maiden's husband was merry adored with costlier fabrics underneath lie his round belly.

He lured and pampered her with presents for he knew very well that he was too old to keep the lovely maiden to himself.

Unlike her he was an old soul, his eyes lacked passion, his mouth flattery, and his body, Oh don't ask.

The lass tried to be content for few days lest a void that only grew in her breast.

The man she married was not whom she wanted and thus, for days on and on, she lamented.

Her heart longed to be the maiden she once was, to thrill at little mischiefs, to steal some hearts, and to break some.

Her ears wanted to gather flattery and her mouth yearned to flirt. She looked back at her husband and deemed it impossible.

What a cruel curse it was, not one to love her not one to corrupt, so bitter she became, so heartbroken was the dame.

Envy captured her soul on wives with loving husbands, with fits of rage and a pinch of jealousy she seduced these men.

She didn't care anymore, bought dresses worth gold, and was a mistress to a dozen bold.

Her husband died trusting his faithful wife, his life was bliss and thus died merrily as he was his whole life.

The maiden no longer young grieved in pain with guilt that burnt her skin and, the burden of hateful wives and spiteful lovers pushed her into an abyss so deep.

Her eyes lacked color, misery reflected onto her appearance, no longer was she the lovely maiden but an old hideous woman. The person in the mirror no longer made her feel confident but gave her disgust.

Men who once adored her left her to rot in misery and bleakness.

She couldn't bear it anymore, she fell onto the stairs and wept harshly. Underneath her figure was an ant being crushed, she shouted out loud "why me", as she woke up glancing at the ant she felt herself to be it. An urge within her sprouted to straighten its limbs and let it out the garden. An invisible smile swept over her face. She sat on the rocking chair by her balcony and pondered on how rain droplets adored her garden like diamonds. Her ears relaxed to the cooing of the birds. She thought about the ant and how worried its family must have been then closing her eyes she caught on to a dreamless sleep.
The next day she called her neighbor's kids to play in her garden. The kids were happy, so sure of life they didn't bother about a lot. They merely flew through life as if they owned life as if life was theirs.
Her eyes smiled at the idea and she once again wanted to be a kid with no laments.



Submitted: June 27, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Shilpa77. All rights reserved.

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