She lived in the cottage on top of the hill,
surrounded by hundreds and thousands of mills.
Aleejia was the baker’s daughter, you see,
and whoever wished to court her had to pay heed,
to the numerous wolf traps laid on the lot,
courtesy of her father, Sir Covenheart!
Yet the little maiden never felt lonely,
despite the so few playmates with their ponies,
and the absence of her parents,
who were off exploring the seas,
riding the currents.
And though she pondered,
as she walked in her meadow,
and wondered and wandered
through daisies, chrysanthemums, and a single marigold,
she never longed for a companion.
Nor did she ever age,
or undergo growing pains,
for a trip to the town witch
had gone well, without a hitch,
and Aleejia Huntington was bestowed
with a life of stolen, childhood youth.
And so she continues,
until this day,
her time filled with nothing,
but laughter and play.
image credit: “the dark forest” by danoxster is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0
