My Lord

"I think, my lord." she said
in a docile tone
It is time for me, to compose
a poem

Her lord looked at his lady with glee
Inside he wished her poem was of he

She sat at her vanity and began to write
of scarlet skies and crimson seas
her mind wandering through
her most cherished memories

It was this night the lady was slain
it was this night, the manor
of her loved lord
would never, ever be the same.

The assasin in their shroud
snuck in through the kitchen
this was the way best
for his passage allowed.

He passed three men
and killed them all
a skilled murderer he was
though he never harmed one.

He entered the chamber of the lord
with his honour fast asleep
this worked out best
so before death, his peace to keep.

He made his way to the lady
he knew not where
but he knew he needed
to find his way there.

He entered the room
and there she was
as he had seen
fast asleep, hunched over her vanity.

He grabbed her up
and hugged her close
un-sheathed his knife
and gave one heave.

The lady awoke with
a deafening scream
she stared her killer
in the eye and muttered,
"It's about time."

The murder placed her
on her fancy silk sheets
closed the beds veil
and started to leave.

A paper on her vanity
caught his eye
he trudged over
and gave it a skim:

Oh my lord
How I love thee
But sometimes
sometimes
I need my peace
I take my thoughts
And with them hope
That my life
Is on short rope
As the scarlet sky ends a day
So easily ends my time
The sea of crimson calls to you
To die in glorious battle
I am a lady and cannot fight
To die with honour
Though i cannot do it myself
I know I am to die
I will join, the scarlet in the sky
And you a man
A man of violence of hate
(One can see through your gifts and love)
Will join the death of the sea
The death of men before you
Waging battles of a simple
Disagreement

Oh My Lord
As I take my last breath
You lose your one lady
And your only love
(Other than the scene of dying men)
But don't be worried
Your time will come
And you will die

Oh My Lord


The assasin now understood
he took off his cloaks dark hood
lifted the lady's pencil and scribbled:

I am dead