She places a coin at the edge of the Well.

The spring blossoms airbrush roses

on Her cheeks like a veil,

hiding Her secret thoughts. 

In dreams She awaits Her beloved affair.

Alone, She hopes for a verdict. 

You are not wrong, says the verdict. 

Your wish will be heard, says the Well. 

She remembers His face, bold yet fair

in all the right places as if roses

would bloom if He so much as uttered that thought,

Fairies would descend to adorn Him in romance’s sweet veil.

All the while her dreams whisper blurs of white silk and satin veils, 

a day when the whole world would see their verdict

of adoration for each other. These thoughts

encircle Her whole, like the darkness resting in the Well.

With each second Her hopes only rose,

that one day He would find Her fair.

That He would leave from His fair,

fair lover. And be blinded by Her veil,

and leave His fair lover behind this wall of roses.

That He would declare His love for Her as the verdict.

She wished for such as She rolled the golden coin into the Well.

One day, one day, one day. She thought.

Soon He will see, She thought,

She will make Him see how it was not fair

to leave Her desperately pining, here next to the old Well, 

while His love for sinful her was unveiled, 

which broke Her fragile heart; her demise must be the verdict.

And He must apologize for making Her wait with a bouquet of roses,

One by one She would pluck the roses,

each petal will float down the well, and She will ask her what she thought.

The red blossoms will cover the water’s visage, a final verdict.

Her love’s proclamation and her end, a fair

ending, ready to be unveiled.

And She stares into the Well.

Fair, gold curls drown at the bottom of the Well. 

Half the verdict has been set, She thought.

All that awaits is Him unveiling Her face, roses in Her hand, saying ‘I do’.