Lady By The River

In a village by the river,

Lived a girl far too clever,

For the world surrounding her forever,

Yet vanity took over never,

The best of her.

To people she'd barely talk,

In the woods she loved to walk,

And social norms she'd slyly mock,

And not the absence of a clock,

Ever produced her late.

So often she was found,

Painting water beside soft ground,

With colours inside her astound,

With magic of the river sounds,

A story was written.

Currents danced on her command,

Fishes held their stance,

Animals from miles drew for a glance,

Of the beautiful countenance,

Beside the river ground.

Whenever she painted with joy,

The forest burst with laughter coy,

Yet no mortal ever heard her overjoyed,

But a consistent passenger boy,

Traveling through the forest.

But alas her poor heart,

No human were to ever see her art,

For that'd let her powers depart,

Away from her ethereal cart,

Of beauty and tangibility.

For once she sat all crackn'd,

Drew herself and a kraken,

But also her hero - a dragon,

And named him Argon,

Who'd fly her away.

'Oh beautiful' a voice from behind said,

It was the boy who had tread,

Distances to the source of the sonorous thread,

'I'm Aragon' his meek voice said,

Holding out his hand.

There she gasped in horror,

Hasted away from the corner,

Hushed and rushed further,

Where her breath she gathered,

'It's over' she said.

Collecting her courage back she went,

A fortnight since she controlled currents,

With her arm out she tried to paint,

But magic had drained down the vent,

So she sat morose.

'I'm sorry for the day' he advanced,

'Didn't mean to startle you'; She glanced,

He held out a carved wood with his hands,

'This is me by the river, I understand?',

'Yes. 'Lady by the River' from a sincere craftsman.'