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Poetry: On love

by P Vandegrift

A Maiden's Tale



Oh what hold you have over me, my love!
I wait, as anxious as a child, for the sun to rise
its golden rim rising above the horizon.
For it is then that I see you, my love, stirring against the dawn
the silhouette of your body rustling beneath the wool
unaware of what the day will bring.
Will it bring war?
Will it take you far away from me?

I trace the rough shadow along your jaw and rest two fingers on your brow.
What sights you have seen, what suffering your men have endured, and how much sacred blood has soiled the map of our world!
My caress leaves no such mark, no wound, no memory for you to retain.
I seek only to soften the blow of your enemy
who takes you so far away from me.

Oh if only I could protect you in the field!
My heart as your shield, my love as your armor, my body as your steed!
Oh what a ferocious foe we would be, you and I, we would win the battle
and return here together to the valley
where once we danced in open fields and jumped through many a fire
made love next to the river
where the gods languish, so idle!

Oh, what hold over me you have, my love!
The sun has risen, the beacon lit
the day already heavy on your brow
with your armor upon you and the sword at your side
my love, my heart is breaking, my soul is trembling inside.
Take me with you, this day. Let us never part again!

But such is the life of a knight's maiden, I know this well.
I live to dream, I live to wake in world without battles
without a King's birthright to claim.

Ah, but now are my lips upon yours, my palm against your chest
this practiced gesture is sometimes too painful to test.
So, my love, let this final touch of our parting protect you
and return you safely to my breast.








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