A Cavalier’s Lament
Upon a hill, a cavalier stood,
His shadow long where once he would
Ride forth with steel, with heart unshook,
Now lost in lines of a grammarian’s book.
He traced a face in dust and dawn,
A memory faded, but not yet gone.
Once, lips had sworn, hands had pressed—
But love, in quarrel, found no rest.
She was a light woman, fleet and fair,
With laughter woven in her hair.
But as the stars began to wane,
She left him standing in the rain.
By a wall, where ivy clung,
He sang the song he once had sung—
A vow given, a woman’s last word,
Yet no reply, no heart stirred.
At the villa, silence grew,
Among the rocks, where wild things flew.
The garden wept in sandal-scents,
Love had gone where lost time went.
In Provence, where bright winds call,
A couple once danced in golden halls.
Their ghosts still haunt the quiet stones,
Soft apparitions, aching tones.
A cavalier, now bowed and worn,
Upon the fire-side’s heat was torn—
Did fate betray, did faith deceive?
Did hope or fear command belief?
With boot and saddle left to rust,
He murmured low in times thick dust,
Of sacred tombs and holy days,
Of garden heaps and lost displays.
And as the dawn began to rise,
The cavalier closed weary eyes.
For love is light, and love is grave—
A fleeting wind, a time washed wave.
WoPoLi 
Leave a comment