Frozen

Would that her tempestuous words deafen my ears, for her silence is more ruin and deadly than the rains that defined Noah's holy task.

As her knight I would face Satan if she did but ask. But without a dictate or quest from my beloved I become as a candle's flame against God's mighty breath.

Death is more welcome than her refusal to lend me her tender pronounce. For it is her command alone which may console my beating essence, or my right to walk on soil for one more evenfall.

Left to suffer in the cold night haze, each frozen drop deepening my icy grave. With pride I attempt to guard my ache from my royal seige, but well does he know my grief. Even the gestures of his joyful squire do mot retrieve my anguish.

Alone then in my chamber do I weep, ne'er aware if she will again cede my heart a sweet noble deed.

Yet tis not to be, for her needs are far deeper than this humble knight's grasp. Like many before I will end my service and cumulate to a faint memory.