Monday, April 6, 2009

Week 13

I think I'm a week behind...ah well, I'll catch it up.

So Wrong, So Right

As scorching sun sets, soft moonlight takes hold
of me, its cool radiance casts shadows
upon my face and the door preceding
takes upon an overwhelming image.

My tie is straight and strong, my coat is strong
and straight-- my heritage presented, proud;
I boldly rap my fist upon the gate
ahead, and await upon the butler's grace.

A slight thrill of shock consumes as eyes wide
I view the profile of Lady Sandra.
Where is the butler? Why would she greet me?
This speaks ill for the night and meal to come.

I wave away my coach and enter, slow
strides across the uncomfortably bare
hall and bow above the Lord's open hand
and join the two to converse and to dine.

Where I expected sparkling jewels, trophies,
and artifacts, instead I find blank space
upon the walls and simple fare instead
of feasts. And yet I am drawn to partake.

We speak in light, my Lady sat beside
a glow within her eyes. Her joy is bright
illumination within these dark walls.
I remain at odds; Is she a pauper?

This dilemma rolls through my mind, jumbling
stores of ill thoughts and abundant queries
lose from the rafters. What would my mother
say when I told her? The respect she'd lose.

I glance again to my courted Lady
And see her joy undiminished. Un-phased
she sips her tea and nibbles her fare,
as I wonder what her beauty is worth.

My spoon dives deep into the simple soup
of country herbs and thin, light, meat--rabbit?
But what is this odd taste? Flavor mismatched
to set in which we act our sordid scene.

Expecting simple fare, as it is seen,
instead I taste a shocking share of suc-
culent sauce and much to my mind's great shock,
I find my meal to be richer than seen.

The joy aside my seat shifts and then I know
the truth in that instant. She is indeed
worth the time, worth the drop, for she may be
plain in substance, but so rich in flavor.

My mother may speak ill of me, my pa
may scorn as well, but in the end I've seen
the light. She is wrong to look down at me,
as she will see, when I pledge life to love.

In end the evening halts with no great scene,
and I'm walked kindly to the door. I find
the night a soft comfort again, and I know
That I'll return, as starlight guides me home.

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