A woman's need

At the stroke of memory
a woman's need awakes
and it runs like Cinderella
to the safety of her love
o'er the cruel and dastardly
deeds of other folk.

Out of breath it arrives
at the door of happiness
but stops to then remember
it lives within a woman scorned
and an arm upraised to knock
falls slowly to its side.

It tries to raise the other arm
but the message has got through
and the need falls asleep
to a woman's out of tune
and forced lullaby.

And a woman burdened so
drops her ray of hope
into the marshy swamps of life
like one who knows to be
lighter on the move.

Energized with devil's blood
she travels o'er the hills and dales
seeking shelter for her need
that can't remain within
sleeping like a log
on her river of desire.

And there the tale remains;
she's not returned again
but perhaps I know no one's au fait
with a woman's need
to take it in and feed, nurture,
what they cannot see!