The Virtuous Owl - A Poem by Chris Zachariou

A studious young girl

Our wise goddess, 

you craved sainthood

but doubts racked your body.

A tortured mind, 

you lived a sinless life

in your books and abstinence.

An example to us all

you drank juice without ice

and resisted thoughts of sinning.

You talked of God 

and of an old friend

but every time

you said her name

a yearning danced

across your eyes; 

but you married

a diploma instead.

Now, your two diplomas

framed hand in hand

on your bedroom wall, 

look down aghast at your

weekly and joyless fumblings.

I wonder though virtuous owl.

When your eyes are closed

and you whine that final cry, 

whose face do you see? 

Is it perhaps

that old school friend, 

her wistful voice

still a vacuum in your life? 

If only you had a little courage.

We would have loved you no less.