Shy
She was demure,
And not like others,
A blush rose over her cheeks,
Whenever she was looked hard,
She spoke soft,
And did not bellow like others,
She was not heard often,
By those who in fact did not want to hear anybody,
But she was heard for fast by those who really wanted that,
She had tried to be like others,
But simply could not,
She could not grab, run and cry,
And gave a by to many opportunities with a smile wry,
If she was wool ,
How could she cohabit with wood and iron,
And she knew that,
So she chose her friends with care,
And their circle was small,
Soon she got a mate her type,
And gelled real well,
For life she remained simply like that.
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