Winter's Death

A Lady sits in silence in a garden in the shade,
and listens to the hoofbeats of a ghost within the glade.
She tries to see the picture of the Knight who held her hand
to fight a winter's cold death as it breathes upon her land.

The woman who had drawn her from the dreams within her heart,
struggles now beside her for the love that filled her art,
and fights against the closing of the path beyond hope's door,
searching for the woman who had walked her mind before.

She wrote upon the pages all the acts that speak a self,
the words that kept her living though she hid upon a shelf.
Reality's aloneness ever softened by dreams light,
hard fixed upon the Lady protected by her Knight.

The Lady waits in saddness as she watches battle fought
her hope placed in the woman who created her in thought,
the love she knows he has for her throughtout eternity
a mantle gold upon her soul in warm serenity.

And softly now she whispers "there is light beyond the dark,
a meadow filled with roses and the singing of the lark.
My knight will one day carry me and yours will come for you,
companionship to shelter us, a friend in all we do.

A shadow passes over them and chilling blackness grows
the woman whispers "music is but raucaus calls of crows.
What garden will await me now, in dreams I cannot find?
Where is the essence of me that has left me walking blind?"

The Lady's hand extended, whispered plea she now can't hear,
the silvered moon of love's hope washed away by veil of tears;
the fantasy that robed her fleeing from a frozen soul,
the Lady taken from her and a winter's death knell tolls.©

(c) ~RAC 2-18-2000 ~