Times past

so i find that the winds abate
and i sit here with this clean slate,
the moments shared
dancing the dance               
in rigid and in form,
of courtly love, the verse
so not do we rehearse.
My days grow short, the ending of its light
which brings to me, a desire for more insight
knowledge is such that I seek
elevating me from the meek
searching the truth of my soul
hence, will carefully and neatly unfold.
the night,
by the waxing of our moon
i imagine a candle’s light
your alabaster, the fairness to a snow’s flight
as moving to the heavens above
the image of a loving dove.
you, my Lady, could not be more sweet
a quest that all knights do seek
yet i have found what i alone did yearn...
in my heart did churn.
so i will drop my pen
upon my knee, i once again,
may i brush my cracked lips upon the back of your hand.
ah, my Lady, the scent of sandalwood and so decorated in diamonds and gold
as for my purity as often times it is told..
from the beginning of the table round and stories of yore
a pledge, in honor, to you only I could serve.