In the winter of discontent
she was living inside a small tent.
He had left her for good
and he was a small hood
but she couldn't come up with the rent.
After Spring came the Summer, then Fall
then one day she had heard his voice call.
he was ragged and thin
with an unshaven chin
and her tent was, remember? too small.
'Take me back I will love you forever
I adore you and pledge I shall never
turn my back on you dear...'
(he produced a small tear)
she was lonely but not very clever.
When she washed his old clothes in the lake
he was resting and barely awake.
and when she returned
it was time that she learned.
He had taken her tent, for God's sake.
But she never gave up in believing
nor thought of despair or of grieving.
At the Pawnbroker's shop
he had made a brief stop
yet she still would not label it thieving.
And today she is sitting alone
in a meadow where grasshoppers moan.
as she prays to the gods
she considers the odds
that the Heavens will send her a clone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Do you think she will ever find con'tent'ment Herbert, I do hope so even if she is a little dim. Great poem, enjoyed it. love Ernestine XXX