My Lady stands lonely, high in her new castle tower,
Watching the scenes down below in the courtyard
Where courtiers and knights play their games of power
All under the sharp eyes of the watchful guard.
She shifts her gaze around to the surrounding town
Following movements of traders, servants, common people;
She glimpses the bald, aged priest as he moves through the streets
And enters the church overlooked by its steeple.
Her eye catches a young lass dressed brightly, with flowers,
Walking away from the green parkland way over there, yonder.
My lady can see there a stone-and-beam bower;
She envies the freedom of townsfolk to wander.
She asks for a guard to escort her out, make certain she’s safe
Away from the castle, through town to the park and its bower,
To select colourful, perfumed blooms, blossoms – a bouquet
To carry as treasure, with pleasure back to her room in the tower.
© Lynne R McAnulty-Street, Rotorua NZ, 2011
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