Pine Mountain Cemetery XVI
            Doris May

Born with a silver spoon is not a
Guarantee life will be full or sweet.
Doris May left the womb in a gloom

Never giving out that pinkish baby bloom.
All the necessary pieces were there,
Nice home, good folks, pretty dolls .

Small for her age and never grew much
Past it, but enough, not stunted, not an elf.
She just stood shorter than the rest of them.

Hair mousy, complexion sallow, humor sour.
Smart enough, made good grades, ambition
Never quite hit the mark, no beaus to speak of.

Funny thing she really liked people, what they
Were doing, who they knew, where they went.
The town gossip knew far less than she.

Who married who, where they were, the next
Party planned, who was broke, estranged.
She knew it all, told some, but mostly kept it.

Might think her life plain, unremarkable, ordinary.
You would be as off the mark if the sight was bent.
There was a secret buried under all that brown.

She lost her heart and head to a man who didn’t care.
He loved them all, laughed his way and left them
Smiling, all but Doris May. Smiles for her, too rare.

There’s more to the story, but why tell now. Best
To let what’s past lie there under all that moss
Untold, held close by that brave, small soul.

Mothers, tell your boys broken hearts leave
Traces beyond their ken. Toy with the giddy ones
Leave shyer girls their quieter safe devices.

Doris May, Doris May sing the saddest song
Unlived, alone, bereft of all that looks so shiny.
Folks smiled her way, gave a nod, went afar.

Would they if given one more chance reach
For the little brown wren, make her smile,
           Bring her in, love her dear?