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The Bayhawk Bearer

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The Bayhawk Bearer

The Bayhawk Bearer

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Poetry: Countenance of Fear

I stole the heart of an honorable knight.

Yes, honorable and true.

And except for the love of his homeland.

He vowed himself never to be wooed.

I captured his heart an aching.

Tis filled like glass only to be breaking.

But this was not to be, for on this day he fell for me.

Noble and suspicious for it is love that penetrates.

And punctures like an arrow which the longing doth insatiate.

He suspected a deeper purpose and a reason not so fair.

Was it I who wanted connection with the throne and with the heir?

For who could loveth thee asked he, I so old of mind but not in body?

For me to believe deserving of thy love, no man should be so haughty.

A thief will take and not returneth, abscond a thing and never ask.

In his heart his love doth burneth, passionately and melt the mask.

It was gone before he knew it but demanded he it back!

And so begrudgingly I returned it and the coals dimmed just as fast.

But when he saw me with another, and another’s hand I held.

Once more It sparks again, and once more the mask doth melt.

Interest be sparked once more and he makes to ask with courting hand.

For a lady such as thee says he is the finest in all the land!

Remembereth I the times with one other, amidst sun and Greenland shade.

Reappearing in the mind once more before furthermore they fade.

The smile and pleasantries, the look, the ever-faint surprise.

When to his core the image shook crafted of self-deprecatory lies.

There is a crumb of resentment. and from him a countenance of fear.

To approach me afterwards of what happened long ago from all those years.

Steady now, be as forgiving, as one absolvitory of their own lesser misgivings.

But do not offer back your hand once more.

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