Among the weeping willow trees, amid the fresh spring air
Alone and singing softly sat a maiden, sweet and fair.
The gentle breeze caressed her flowing hair of gold,
and all day there she stayed, singing songs of old.
Her angel eyes and beauty seemed from sky above,
But this meant nothing to her for she only cared for love.
Knights would come and knights would go but however hard she tried,
She could never seem to find the one for whom her heart would cry.
Early one summer morn, before her song did start,
She could the one she thought would heal her lonely broken heart.
A knight with waving plume of blue, he pledged to be forever true.
Before he left, he promised her, “I will return to you.”
And our fair maiden returned home, happy for one night,
determine to forever keep her handsome new-found knight.
In her bed, she dreamed of his kind and smiling face,
Thinking of all the reasons why she longed for his embrace.
Our girl had an older sister, sweet but twice as shy,
And she would hide her face when a man came walking by.
Unlike her sister in all ways except with one exception:
She too longed for love before beauty left her reflection.
Every dawn she waited, watched her golden sister leave.
But she know that in herself she must too believe.
For though her hair was darker and her eyes were not as bright,
She thought that if she waited, she would also find her knight.
And on, the golden sister left and on the darker waited.
But how could they have know about what was to be fated?
The golden one carried on unknowing for ignorance is bliss.
Then again, the darker one would ne’er have true love’s kiss.
The years passed and the darker grew so very drawn and old.
The golden found, however she tried, her lover’s heart grew cold.
And came the day when both were found in their same small room.
Lost hopes and dreams and love, their lives: one lonely doom.
Once young women, now both left to waste their lives away
But who can dare to guess which one did feel the worse that day?
Was it the golden girl who loved then had her heart ripped from her?
Or the darker one whose heart had never woken from its slumber?