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