The Memory of Puzzle

Memory of Puzzle

She came tapping

On a cold winter night.

Her skin was cold,

Her lips blue.

Mother took her in,

Gave her hot cocoa.

She sat by the smoldering coal,

Not uttering a word.

She slept there,

Without a complaint.

Mother was concerned,

For she did not complain.

Before I left,

I said, "What is your name?"

She said,

"That's not important."

The next day,

She did everything herself.

I watched her,

Clean up, make food, scrub the dishes.

I asked her,

"Why do this?

Mother does it."

She thought for a second.

We were two,

And I never knew

What the response

Could have meant.

She said,

"Your kind mother works.

She gave me a home.

Now I'm indebted to her."

She always treated

Everyone royally.

She always smiled,

Never complaining.

When we went to school,

She was teased.

They asked her name

She said, "That's not important."

Everyday,

Mother and I bugged her.

"What's your name?" we asked.

"That's not important," was the answer.

In seventh grade,

She got beat up.

They thought she did not have a name,

They gave her NoName.

Once,

They beat her bloody.

She smiled after.

"My name's not important."

I took her out

For a boating trip

When we were fourteen

I wish I had not.

They came,

Took her out of the boat.

Threatened her with a knife.

Took her in their boat.

"Julian, I'm fine."