I Know The Words I Write Come From My Soul
A poet you always were, born of noble birth, yours was a life of wealth and stature. The Cotswolds were your home and your playground was a manor home high in the hills. Your family traded in wool and was well known throughout the land. But you, dear friend, called beggars and the poverty stricken your kin.
You traded your silken robes for commonplace wear and moved across the Village with lute in hand. I spied you one evening, when by candlelight, a shadow was cast and with quill pen in hand you wrote from your second floor loft. Handsome you were, with eyes of green, a devilish grin and wicked wink. I was royalty and in secret we met. You dedicated many a poem to me to tell me of your undying love and dedication. You swore to protect and cherish me until the end of time.
One morning as I knocked on your door, and opened it a crack, I spied a gypsy woman in your bed. Brazen she was with dark hair and black eyes. She held you spellbound with her tantalizing ways. In horror, I looked in your direction, as you pleaded that it was not her, but I you wanted. She taunted me with her wicked smile and declared you were hers. As I ran from your bedchamber, I heard her sinister laugh as she held you captive with her web of seduction.
As my heart broke at the thought of your betrayal, I never forgave you and left the kingdom behind. I heard from a highwayman that you had perished by your own hand as you drank hemlock to end your life.
I never forgot my love for you and knew destiny was at play to return us again, to make right that wrong from centuries ago.
In this modern era we met again, a poet you still are, our souls recognized each other from that turbulent past and we reunited once again. I always knew who you were, but you did not remember me. We were together again, with many obstacles blocking our path. We loved each other but that gypsy woman returned to claim you as hers. Again you were caught in her web and deceitful you were, as you both conspired against me, and betrayal came knocking again. The power of love came calling, and her dark spell was broken. Does fate now right that wrong of long ago......does my poet return to me to end our days in passionate embrace. Only time will tell, the end of this tale....but the end is written in the stars.
You traded your silken robes for commonplace wear and moved across the Village with lute in hand. I spied you one evening, when by candlelight, a shadow was cast and with quill pen in hand you wrote from your second floor loft. Handsome you were, with eyes of green, a devilish grin and wicked wink. I was royalty and in secret we met. You dedicated many a poem to me to tell me of your undying love and dedication. You swore to protect and cherish me until the end of time.
One morning as I knocked on your door, and opened it a crack, I spied a gypsy woman in your bed. Brazen she was with dark hair and black eyes. She held you spellbound with her tantalizing ways. In horror, I looked in your direction, as you pleaded that it was not her, but I you wanted. She taunted me with her wicked smile and declared you were hers. As I ran from your bedchamber, I heard her sinister laugh as she held you captive with her web of seduction.
As my heart broke at the thought of your betrayal, I never forgave you and left the kingdom behind. I heard from a highwayman that you had perished by your own hand as you drank hemlock to end your life.
I never forgot my love for you and knew destiny was at play to return us again, to make right that wrong from centuries ago.
In this modern era we met again, a poet you still are, our souls recognized each other from that turbulent past and we reunited once again. I always knew who you were, but you did not remember me. We were together again, with many obstacles blocking our path. We loved each other but that gypsy woman returned to claim you as hers. Again you were caught in her web and deceitful you were, as you both conspired against me, and betrayal came knocking again. The power of love came calling, and her dark spell was broken. Does fate now right that wrong of long ago......does my poet return to me to end our days in passionate embrace. Only time will tell, the end of this tale....but the end is written in the stars.
