This is more of a story than a poem, but it rhymes (and its not like anybody reads this anyway) so I'm putting it here.

A lone girl stands high up on a cliff,

Tall with blue eyes and hair blown adrift.

She knows not how she arrived or where she's from,

Her mind drawn a blank and her body gone numb.

Her name is forgotten, dust in the wind,

Her clothes are tattered, threadbare, and thin.

When asked where she's going, she'll say she knows not,

When asked of her purpose, she'll say she's forgot.

Though she's no way of fulfilling her cause,

The lone girl on the cliff will claim she's not lost.

"I'll simply watch the sun in the sky,

I'll be patient, wait 'till the brink of night."

The lone girl speaks to no one, it seems,

Her hair illuminated in the evening sun's beams.

"Yes, that's it, and in an hour or three,

I'll leave, and if you're brave, you'll follow me."