Beseeching the Whitelace Ghost
( A sequel to my poem “The Lady of Whitelace Castle” )
Are ye, my lady, an apparition
or perchance a fair servant frail?
The ruddiness of pinks
touching neither your cheeks
as you wander about so pale
My lips turn blue from winter’s cold
under this arch of elm sentinels
growing quickly despondent
not knowing the truth
of your present presence tale
Speak, please now, that I may dispel
ghost sagas of Whitelace myths…
Be ye her Mistress
in this ghostly vision
or the fair servant once lost in the mist?
Some hold the truth in the latter
but for me the true facts do matter
as I am the one
that bid Mistress farewell
when her hand was promised another
It’s been bantered about for years
that you seek true love unattained
I’m wondering now
if our forbidden vows
is that love that you search for in vain
I beg that ye now speak your story
tossing my sanity here out as witness
for in health’s decline
my heart also seeks
the lost love of the Castle’s Mistress
I stand here now in this snow drift
shivering skin on now brittle bones
I could surely die
A satisfied man
If my joining your spirit would atone
© 2014 Debra Squyres 01/30
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