A Quiet Song

(Little Women)

The perspective of Beth March- a sister, home.

I do not seek the world’s grand stage,
Nor chase the fire of grander ways.
The hearth, the hum of home’s embrace,
Are all I need to fill my days.

They shine like stars, my sisters three-
So bold, so bright, so full of flame.
I walk beside them quietly,
Content to love, not seek acclaim.

Jo is wind with ink-stained hands,
Meg is grace in satin thread,
Amy dreams of foreign lands…
I stay near the fire instead.

I watch my sisters laugh and climb
Their dreams like trees that stretch the sky-
I stitch, I sing, I bide my time,
Content to simply be nearby.

A piano’s whisper calms my chest,
Its keys like petals under my hand.
In quiet notes my soul finds rest-
A gentle world, not bold or grand.

I do not mind the softer parts,
The quiet tasks, the songs unsung.
For I have music in my heart
And prayers upon my silent tongue.

I’m not the storm, I am the shore
Where others come when tempests rise.
A candle flickering near the door,
A steady hand, a pair of eyes.

Each hour here is stitched with care,
Each breath a gift I do not waste.
Though illness lingers in the air,
I savour life, not rush nor chase.

If I must go, then let it be
With lullabies and evening’s grace.
And think of me in melody-
In folded quilts, in fire-lit space.

And if I leave before the spring,
Let not your tears fall down in rain.
Think of me when robins sing,
And let my song outlive my name.

For though my story may be brief,
It holds no bitterness, no fear.
There’s beauty even stitched in grief,
And love will hold me ever near.