Meanwhile, Melody Muses…

You hide your scars well.

Wind has wailed and blasted skin

and sucked the water from every cell.

I see your petals are wearing thin

but from here it’s hard to tell

that you are walking wounded now,

limping with a twisted cane.

Deeper furrows line your brow,

etched with tools of deepest pain.

Yet golden still, your face shines on;

you smile as if you saw the gain –

that tragedy, its substance gone

had fought with you, and fought in vain.