m' Lady

Alas, I fear the wrath of m' Lady. Her harsh tongue stings like the crack of a whip, her eyes doth pierce like sharpest arrows. Yet I endure.

I endure and continue to love. And with that continuance, my joy and sorrow increase with each day, until I think that I shall die, of laughter or of tears. Nae, I know not which.

And yet each day my heart hearkens to her, and, like some small animal, races, as if trying to escape directly from my breast.

I have tried to quench the fire, tried to halt this fiery passion that burns my soul. But then m' Lady simply opens her eyes. Those sky blue eyes, that can at one moment be as steely as a storm, and then, as suddenly as a storm blows away, be calm blue. As blue as the see on a windless day.

Oh how I would love to sail across those open orbs, bathing in the radiant love put forth when I am in good favor with m' Lady.

How easily the word flow from my pen, as I wish they did from my tongue. That I might be able to wrap her in every loving word set forth directly from my lips.

To in one brief instant, show her the passions of my heart, with mere words. Words that flow from my pen so easily, flowing like a river that runs over glass stones. To but show her the depths of my hear, like the depths I see in those deep sky eyes.

But always I fall short. For days on end wallowing in the slathering gutters of my own mind. Eternally trapping myself with my demonic habits. Never being able to express the chivalrous heart buried deep beneath these stones, harsh stones, like the stones at the head of a dead man's grave.

Stones marked with names like anger, lust, bitterness, and envy. Stones held up on granite foundations.