Patching and darning and sewing the holes
She sits alone by the window
Her blue robes catch the dawn sun
She looks below
Where the day has begun
Soon she will begin her job
Mending broken hearts with her
Glass sewing needles and a silent sob
Every stitch is steady and sure
She’s the Mender of course
In her tower, unbreaking
The broken ones, you don’t need a discourse
Her thin pale fingers are unshaking
This is her life
Erasing marks of strife
Kissing softly souls
She works when the snow dances
When the leaves turn
When the flowers and courtiers begin their spring romances
And when the gold Sun begins to burn
Unrelenting and unseen
She sends them home to shine
She doesn’t know what her life will have to mean
Or what will of her pine
When she is dust in her tower
When she is cold as ice
She ponders, as the rain does shower
And she can’t risk rolling the dice
She hears his voice
So sweet and kind
She has no choice
She must seek him just to find
A love worth death
But his heart is dark
He steals her breath
And leaves his mark
But is gone when snow comes
And her head pounds
And her heart drums
As she makes her rounds
Collecting broken glass
Each her heart’s shard
Her own mending she will pass
Her eyes too tired and hard
She is bitter and sad
No longer happy with a smile
She is hurt and mad
And hopes to swim a mile
Under the ocean deep and blue
And never come back
Because her lover wasn’t true
And it was love for her he did lack
He sees her from above
And in that instant
Falls in love
But her head says she mustn’t
Trust again, bleed again, feel the fire
Though her heart sings to him
She denies her desire
Claims her heart’s light is dim
That she’s to broken to love
That she’s too smart to fall
But he sees her white as a dove
And he’ll risk it all
Years come
Years go
She keeps mum
Her feelings she refuses to show
He waits patiently for her epiphany
She waits somberly for his surrender
He is sure she’ll see love’s litany
She’s sure his love is a dying ember
Snow chills his bones
Heat scorches his face
She can hear his heart’s moans
But he won’t leave this place
He stands in the rain
She watches with glass eyes
He stands in the pain
She wonders if it’s all lies
A century limped past their interlocked stares
Not that either noticed to be sure
Gradually the heated glares
Turned into soft looks, ice-heart’s cure
And before Death took them hand in hand
Before the sun collapsed into bliss
A simple wedding, nothing grand
Of two white haired people who no one else would miss
On the river bank at sun rising
Ends our story here and now
I am of course, surmising
So Heart-Breaker, Heart-Healer and Heart-Mender, take a bow