I am rather proud of the latest poetry I have composed in the 15th Century style of Roundeau (Flander's Field being a good modern example) Here is the poem:
With lingering hope and silent tears
She lifts her eyes as she faces her fears.
No longer young as the days unfold
Though her heart still yearns as the story is told
And the empty silence around her jeers.
Days turn to weeks and weeks to years
And still she waits for the sound her heart hears.
But age won't be tempered that turn dreams cold
Yet hope lingers on.
High on the cliffs where a lonely wind sheers
She keeps her vigil thought she knows the end nears.
Knights are not common and heroes grow old
But a rescue from her tower would require someone bold
And though the storm rages the rain finally clears
And hope lingers on.