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.
