A Maiden’s Lament
A Maiden’s Lament
We plighted our troth that frozen eve,
While traitors, murderous plots weaved.
Feel my heart, like a drum, it beats.
Awaiting news of your warrior feats.
Your armour smeared with blood and gore,
Warrior steed fearless and sword arm sure.
Rallying the men at the darkest of hours,
All steeped in blood, about to flounder.
Imperilled land liberated from treachery,
As this maid labours over a victory tapestry.
My tears are woven within the golden thread.
Heart turned to stone, my beloved is dead.
Your courage forced the enemy to retreat.
Thwarted wretches, choking on bitter defeat.
The savage wounds dire and grave, you bore,
Your feats immortalised in chronicles of yore.
My purity is intact, forsworn are our vows,
Your once stalwart body now enshroud.
Hark, the ominous ring of church bell,
A glorious requiem, a hero’s death knell.
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