My Muse

My Muse is more than an adviser,
she's a lady from another life.
I see our lives play out in dreams,
she was a nobleman's wife.

Her soft hands soothe and calm me,
Soft, gentle voice lulls me to sleep
She watches and smiles at my work,
climbing roads that are long, and steep.

In the mighty king's home castle
We grew up separated by class
I was the lowly hostler's son
She was a nobleman's lass

In awe I watched from stable doors
When the royalty came to ride
Horse manure staining my bare feet
and my tall pitchfork by my side

She sat in front of her father
On a charger strong but mild
As he reined the horse away
She gave me one small smile.

Mornings she came with a basket
while I gathered eggs from the hens.
Our hands touched placing the eggs,
she blushed and smiled again.

On an afternoon in the summer,
where the river entered the lake
I was taking my weekly bath,
That year we were both only eight.

When I looked, she was standing there,
lace clothes in a pile at her feet
Red as a new beet, blushing all over
one hand on the old oak tree.

I caught her hand as she jumped,
we both fell backward and under
Then sputtering, laughing, raised up,
our hearts full of joy and wonder.

No shame in our innocent baths,
met weekly, sharing the water.
My love was returned in kind,
from the nobleman's own daughter.

Suddenly then she was fourteen,
a blossoming beauty in gowns
No more, our romps in the water,
I too, was coming into my own.

Soon, a young noble came calling,
she was betrothed and claimed.
Tearfully told me her story,
but had to be true to her name.

The night before her departure
she came to my bed in the barn.
Her innocence gladly surrendered
Then all night kept each other warm.

Their union was celebrated,
nobles came from far and wide.
He took her that night anyway,
tho not a virgin was his bride.

They dwell together in silence,
A baby boy made his first cry.
But short lived the father's joy,
for he had my hair and green eyes.

The baby was torn from his mother,
Given to a poor woodsman afar.
Confined to the ramparts in shame,
my love suffered a broken heart.

News traveled slowly those days,
but gossip I heard at day's close.
That night on a stolen charger
to my true love's side I rode.

A great commotion arriving,
rode through the unguarded gate.
A crowd surrounded the crumpled form,
By her clothes knew I was too late.

She jumped from the high ramparts,
No more hurt could her poor soul take.
My son died too young from hunger,
I took my own life in the lake.

Could we somehow be rewarded,
for the way we suffered and died?
All I know, is our loved endured
here we are again, side by side.

My muse is more than an adviser,
she's a lady from another life.
I see our lives play out in dreams,
she was a nobleman's wife.