Cobwebs weaving

Time is thieving

Chair is rigid

The atmosphere frigid.

She sits on her throne

Distant and alone

Her wounded pride

Left nowhere to hide.

Dusty and forlorn

Her heart matted and torn

But what kind of heart?

Half frozen in the past.

Wedding cake won't last

As long as her hair

Sit tight and don't stare.

A bird on the wire

Never to tire

Of the grief and sorrow

Ruling her day and tomorrow.

She'd never care to tell

Anyone but Estelle

How those hopes that had nested

For a love that now festered.