The Ballad of Lily and ...

 Rhyming Story Challenge 2023. (Unedited) Prompts: Setting Chalet, Theme: Cowardice 

Outside a chalet high up in the Swiss Alps, 

lay a litter of seven, wee mewling whelps.

A proud mother licking clean all but one--

--the weakest little pup was shunned.

An unkempt girl stood in shadow alone, 

making note of a scene much like her own;

a needy cur born into a fractured home. 

In childbirth, Lily’s own mother had perished. 

Losing the angelic woman he had so cherished

eradicated her father’s love for his young kin, 

inspiring fistfuls of the devil from him.  

Yet, the tiny child herself, so neglected 

to abject abuse, unspeakably subjected, 

knew in her heart a pup should be protected.

At nightfall, Lily slipped into the alley,

far below ice-glazed peaks, just above the green valley

where only God could see her on that frigid eve, 

slip the rejected runt up, into her sleeve.

For days on end she spoon fed the pup

beads of warmed milk from her own, meager cup

Sustenance of love, the little canine lapped up. 

Discovering her secret, papa twisted her arm. 

She took refuge in a kind neighbour’s ramshackle barn,

and continued to nurture her sweet, playful keep,

who grew-up tugging at tail feathers and nuzzling sheep.  

As summer spread out, the pair avoided harm’s way.

The pup wrestled buttercups, Lily dreaded the day

winter would howl and keep them at bay. 

So, came a cold night, one year from when they first met.

The dog now lived in the woods, yet he did not forget

the name Lily gave him, lodged deep in his soul, 

should she call out, he would race straight to her door.  

The December sky darkened, in evening so early. 

A few icy flakes quickly turned to a mad flurry. 

Lily’s father left sober and returned soused, in a fury. 

The sot broached the threshold of Lily’s room, 

with ale on his breath, vowing unholy doom. 

Mercilessly marring a daughter for losing a wife, 

the child had decided to take charge of her life. 

Dressed beneath bed-clothes, Lily leapt from the sheets

hitting the brute with pillows,  she made a hasty retreat 

outside, under a full moon, down the thin winding street. 

Scrambling to the woods, Lily dared not look back, 

knowing the man so enraged, was right on her track. 

Running into thick pines below the mountain’s edge,

she looked up, lost and hopeless, at the menacing ridge. 

The only thing in that moment that Lily did know,

was no human could help her, there was nowhere to go-- 

--she had only one choice, and she called out for … 

…“SNOW!”

The great white dog, towering, snarled through trees, 

sent her father, cowering, down on his knees.  

Snow nudged Lily with his nose to run back, towards home. 

She flew off like a rabbit, leaving man and dog all alone. 

The old coward shook violently, in the thin alpine air.

Somehow knowing Lily’s welfare was his only care, 

young Snow stood silent, spine enhanced by hackles of hair.

The dog recalled the girl now, his only known mother,

the scent of her skin, how they'd cared for each other. 

Looking up to the sky, Snow began an elegy of his own,

for all the earth's squandered love, in a high mournful tone. 

 

Now, whenever folks tell the story, up where lilies dance

They say, “That was the year one hardened heart hadn’t a chance,

against a mongrel’s prayer that set off the great avalanche.”