I am no peer, nor was meant to be, a humble servant of the Lord

I live my days in service and in penance. She that I serve I truly love

As she loves me and yet in public her noble visage betrays no vestige

Of this passion. By soft night I receive her missives and am bewitched.

I give no answers. I cannot explain in so glib a tongue as troubadours do sing

Of maidens fair and all the wonders of her hair and lips and soft murmurings.

Besides it is the casket of her head and jewelled mind which so ensnare my

Imaginings. But Self from Self does turn and as the sun does burn toward

Our final goal we race through life apart. If I were to hold her hand one night

And in the soft midnight to kiss her gentle on the lips and pledge my heart

And all that I do not own, kingdoms would fall, all plans unravel, her future

Would be bleak and short, time spent staring at a clock and waiting for

The final tick-tock, tick-tock. This lock, this heart, this broken-hearted heart -

She has the golden key; she wears it on her wrist for all to see. I will not let her

Try the lock to find it rusted solid. She thinks me uninterested, unkind,

She lives her days in torment. I don’t mind she thinks me wicked. I wish

Her well. A life of bounty and adventure, blessed with knowledge and the

Peace of mind. I wish her all happiness and no pain.

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