Love in the Moors


Morning mist settles on the moors near the Convent,
Local lore tells of a beautiful woman
who waited for a rider of a sleek black stallion.
She eagerly hoped but one day he never came.

They once shared a secret tryst,
meeting in the meadows tall with heath.
Her with a basket of bread and cheese.
He with fine wine and love.

His poetic words caressed her soul.
They spoke of Promises for their future.
He would leave his wife.
She would renounce her marriage to God.

He was the only man she had ever known.
She wore God�s ring and virginal black gown.
He was a lost traveler.
She gave him both directions and her heart.

Theirs was a star-crossed love.
She couldn�t bear to renounce her heavenly vows.
He seemed bound to his earthly ones.
So they took their moments of stolen joy.

A war waged in the countryside.
She knew he was at risk.
If he were hurt, she wouldn�t know.
So she waited, shivered and prayed.

Every week at the appointed time,
She would pray for his return.
Many long weeks turned to years.
The war was over but her heart held hope.

There is a grave marker for Emily Dawson.
And a body may indeed lie there,
But some see a weeping shadow at that window
Holding a lamp and waiting for her love.


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