The Heroine

The heroine in this story
Isn't much of one, you see,
For never did she save a life,
Or keep rich company,
No servants did attend her bed
Or princes bend their knee
To she who quietly made her way
To where her heart was free.

Our heroine never killed a foe
Nor rescued one in need,
Her shoes were never made of glass
Nor were her gardens green,
She never cast a spell of love
Or rode a handsome steed,
But spent the years in waiting
For her heart to be set free.

And though her tale is told to none,
Her deeds pass by, unseen,
No one writes about her world
Nor wonders where she's been,
And never will her face appear
Upon a movie screen,
No less important is her heart,
A star that now shines free.