Broken Lover’s Twine
ARYA BANSKOTA
There sat atop the garden dais,
A maiden born not of wealth nor pride.
The sunlight split through trees she’s trimmed,
Into her honeyed eyes, so free of sin.
She cast her gaze to the evening banter,
Of sirs and squires and horse’s canter.
For amidst the sweat and brute of man,
Stood a knight, tall, built and tan.
Crystals gleamed inside his eyes,
Chestnut hair fell softly, his lashes prized.
A man born into nobility himself,
She dared not whisper the thoughts she felt.
For a mere maiden’s heart was of no worth,
Than the duchess’ lavishness, and royal birth.
Of castles and kingdoms and dragons slain,
With this darling knight, inherent sorrow came.
For in this life and a dozen more,
A torn heart was to be adorned.
Amongst laws abided and marriages betrothed,
She was but a gardener, in a rich man’s home.
But as the setting sun set on the flowers,
His gaze caught hers, and she devoured,
The sight of him, so just and brave,
Enveloped her heart and it finally gave.
A tear streaked her face and soft,
But she kept her head held aloft.
Years of heartbreak and broken lover’s twine,
She knew that minute,
‘He’ll never be mine’.