The Troubadour Poem by Mary Champion

I stand entranced within the great high hall,
uneven flagstone floor supporting me,
my eyes drawn t'wards the decorated wall
half covered by a fading tapestry.

Transformed by my mind's eye, thread turns to flesh,
I clearly see, the handsome troubadour.
The scene is now made vigorous and fresh,
he sings of love that lives for ever more.

Though this chaste courtship brings him nought but pain,
his heart is true and all his words sincere.
He sings of passion too strong to contain.
The meaning of his song is crystal clear.

Then fantasy collides with memory -
still standing here within these castle walls,
I wait and watch him make his ardent plea.
He cannot know that ev'ry tear which falls

flows from a heart I am not free to give.
I will not lie within his arms tonight,
for that cru'l lord with whom I'm doomed to live
will take my body as he sees his right.

But all my heart and soul will be held fast,
forever pledged to he who sings below.
He is my first love and he'll be my last
but there is no way I can let him know.

***

Returning to the present I take note
there speaks a voice that once I surely knew-
'My lady, would you hear this song I wrote
800 years ago and sang for you? '