I held your gaze in my heart.
If I could weave you into the fabric of myself I would.
But your gaze never lingered.
We were nothing more than a heartbeat.
Maybe someday when they sing your song,
They will sing of me.
But it will be nothing more than a line.
She will be your great verse.
This is a fairly loose re-write of one of my 2007 poems. I was really into The Lady of Shallot, by Alfred Lord Tennyson.
With all the re-workings of Arthurian legends, I am surprised there aren’t more including / about the Lady. Perhaps, I just haven’t looked hard enough. It has been a good number of years since I last looked.