Mordred's Poem
Who was that lady who feels like fire to my eyes?
A lovely tall redheaded lady who moves with such grace.
Dancing through the ballroom, all eyes drawn to her face.
I asked a ridged butler to tell me her name.
But no answer but silence.
Turning to look where she had just been, she was gone.
Seeking an answer I lost a chance to meet,
A Lady, or a dream, or just mad desire.
Life is a collection of moments and choices.
-- goals won and lost, love and sorrow.
Tomorrow will I remember the Lady's stark beauty?
The longings I felt in those moments I watched her.
The music that played as she danced like a dream?
Only the future can tell and it is in the future I live.
Moment to moment with dreams and realities.
Best always to dream well!