Autumn

Down by the river where the old willows bow
Marked by time, their branches hanging low
There where the aspens stand and hide
Witness stories, day and night
Along these trees, a river runs
Its water cobalt blue
It accompanies the road through the fields of rye
Leading to a castle all folks knew
Camelot
On an island in the river, covered with flowers
Dwells a lady, wrapped in secrecy
Between tower walls that embower
Her being, being a mystery
Sniffing, in tears; a flower
While standing in the casement