Guenevere

The lady with green eyes wanders
From room to room at night
You can sometime hear her weeping
No one comes to comfort her
​​​​​AT the garden wall she stands 
Waiting for her love and King
She is lost in things she hasn't said
Recalling days spent like dust
Life was a vision of young ideals
Hoped for,  believed in, and proclaimed
When the living breathing phantom 
Appears she can awaken
To return to golden hours of love
When the minutes are so precious 
Therein