Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Medieval love                                                                                                                                               

I see the city spire first appear
As I tread upon the sand.
It rises above the far horizon
as I cross the promised land.

And now the sun does gild with gold
The rooftops of the ville.
It tells me that my love is there
And that she loves me still.

Now above that far horizon
I see the mighty fortress wall.
It keeps me from the one I love.
I must make those ramparts fall.

To resist the slings and arrows
To withstand the boiling oil
To conquer all that stands between us
Before our love does spoil.

The thought of your sweet perfume.
The tenderness of your embrace.
What guides me through this deadly storm?
The sweet memory of your face.

The blue sky up above
Reminds me of your eyes.
The yellow sun, your golden hair.
Your crimson lips my sacred prize.

But now alas my heart is pierced
By an arrow straight and true.
I lay dying at the ramparts foot.
My last thoughts are thoughts of you.


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