Maiden Rose and Briar Bear

Men and women are so different. Communication is easily muddled. The trick is to meet halfway in the middle. Leave your caves and sit down and talk.

Petrified, here she lay.

Black vines creeping.

Inside recesses of the mind.

Down in the deep chasm.

Where no eyes can see.

Ghosts clamor, encumbering.

Sword and shield, she fights.

When the battle ends she is weary.

With a sword she strikes at the dark.

Not strong enough for this foe of hers.

Looking up the pale moon it orbits near.

For whence she came was in the night.

Together she danced, her and the bear.

Her voice falters now, afraid.

In the maze she transverses.

Crystalline drops painted across her white.

As she gazes on, the bear sits in his cave.

Outside, where she sits, the air a bit chilly.

Words spoken were poorly chosen.

Two different worlds misunderstood.

With her spinners hat she set off in a whirl.

In quiet contemplation she ponders.

To go in or wait patiently outside?

A small sigh she sits and waits.

Patience is neither bliss nor comforting.

With her thinking shoes her knowledge grows.

Above she sees the moon glowing bright.

She calls him Lord Moon.

The place soaked in healing grace.

The maiden bathes in his silver light.

If she and Briar bear could meet halfway...

Perhaps there is understanding to be found.

Think of the music that could be had.

When the discord is cleared up.

She reaches out with her hand.

For when Briar bear will flutter back.

So darling in her ever grove she sits.

Near the lake and waterfall she waits.