Why Does She Haunt My Dreams
She is new, this servant girl, a wench, who should mean nothing
I am the lord of the manor.
Anyway, someday I will be.
Not yet, for I am but sixteen.
What is her name? I wonder, straining to hear it.
Beyond the kitchen I hear a name, but barely.
Not strong enough to make it out.
Dare I enter the kitchen? It is never done.
I am too high brow to be welcome in there.
She comes through with a plate of croissants.
Smiles prettily, making me angry for some weird reason.
Why does she haunt my dreams? This common beauty?
I want to ask her name, but dare not. It is not done.
Lord of the manor, but not lord of my words?
I glower at the croissants.
How dare they bring my dream into fruition.
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