She sat alone
Under the lone pine tree,
With none to share a word
Alone in the world.
She sat gazing at the cows
Grazing in the nearby field
And the farmers toiling hard
Listening to the singing bard.
She sat looking at the hens
Clucking away gaily
Looking for big fat worms
Near the tavern ruins.
She sat looking like an object
Of pity for the passerby
As her eyes welled up with tears
Wishing for a sight of her long lost dears
Suddenly something fell
Into her lap from above
It was a cute baby squirrel
As perfect in beauty, as in a mural.
She sat there, playing with it
Oblivious of her surroundings;
At last happy she had someone
to call her own
And that she was not ALONE.
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem