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(a Mayberrie’ poem)

.

He commanded her to flee,

the troops were near,

a bugle called.

One more embrace,

one last locking of their eyes,

then go!  he cried,

mounting his steed

and in his voice

she heard the heat

and so she fled into the forest

never looking back.

 .

Tears stung her cheeks

as wild roses tore her skirt

and branches of the trees

reached out

grabbing at her arms.

She stumbled over coiled roots,

weeping thorns caught her hair

but on she rushed

away from shouts of boiling thunder,

to the castle wall –

knowing that before he rode away

he stopped

and silent, watched her go.

 .

© 2012  Betty Hayes Albright

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