Turnip

Would you marry the man and shut up
She asked.

Soft to serve
Turnip
She said her name was

Suffer to bone
House lit like candles
Burning memories

Away like chaff in the rain

Turnip
Ripe and ready
Tempting fruits close to hand

She laboured
Sweetly as
Mind body soul lay alone

In the battles
She was
Lonely

And desperate

But never ready to defend her own

Ring in hand
Future in two words
Softly served

She stood alone.

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