The Wren Poem by cheryl davis miller

Life tells of many sad stories,
lived out; and then told and retold.

Listen and pay close attention
their wisdom bears more weight than gold.

Such is the case in this story
of a girl called Maude Claris Belle.

Someone I've loved very deeply
with sadness her story I'll tell.

She was born to a large family
fourth child; amidst all the rest.

Bolder ones; vied for attention,
Maude Claris would settle for less.

Created her own world to live in,
books and creatures; her dearest friends.

Her siblings danced in the spotlight,
as Maude recoiled deeper within.

In the clamor of life none noted,
how silent Maude Claris had grown.

She never cried out for attention,
so her anguish was sadly; unknown.

The others moved on and flew the nest,
Maude Claris let life pass her by.

A scoundrel came home with her brother,
and caught Maude Claris eye.

Though she was twenty she was naive
an innocent to the way's of bad men.

The galoot, had a way with the women,
and set out to reel Maude Claris in.

He needed a slave, to tend to his home,
his children and other base needs.

So he scooped her up and married her quick,
before she could learn of his deeds.

The little 'house wren' opened her heart
the oaf completely filled that place.

For a time she put all into that union,
till she vanished; leaving no trace.

Don't get me wrong she's still alive.
Well; her shadow still can be found.

But since the divorce the old Maude Claris,
has never more come around.

Now she's an aggressive unloving soul,
her heart echo's, 'never again.'

Now she favors, a harsh' bird of prey',
instead of a little house wren.

Her children grew up in her shadow
believing it's how it must be.

This story, of Maude Claris Belle's life
is a very sad story to me.