Her Ghost Relives the Night
My shining knight has come to me.
He's braved the storms and mire.
He's crossed the mountains and the sea.
My flesh and soul's desire.
And now he lays his sword aside,
no warriors to fight.
I burn as if I were his bride
and this, our wedding night.
In passion's chariot we soar.
We are the ocean's tides.
We crest like waves. We roll; we roar
until our need subsides.
Now pleasantly (deceit forgot)
among the clouds we float.
How madly I loved Lancelot;
of that the ancients wrote.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2011
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