Deep within the echoing grove,
a shallow heart, chilled and cold.
A child is born with golden hair.
A moment to stop, a moment to stare.
For all that has known her, knew that she was royal.
Their eagerness to be in her presence was loyal.
A hint of a giggle, a glistening smile.
Would bring people from miles and miles.
The maid, the nanny, the woman of the house.
Was all the same title of this silent little mouse.
She protected the grounds around this child.
She gave her prestige, she gave her style.
As the child grew with very few around,
She learned to listen for the smallest sound.
Being raised by someone that never spoke a word.
Made her appreciate the sound and everything she heard.
A rattle would show up from out the thin air.
A pacifier would be given from anywhere.
A shoe would show up at the funniest time.
A sock she thought she would never find.
She would start to talk and have a listening ear.
This nanny/maid/woman would always be near.
Two years of being spoiled and loved as she has grown.
Will devastate her to know that soon she will be alone.
Because the maid/nanny/woman of the house.
Had only two years to live as an African pygmy mouse.