Her dream

Drifting down upon a river
Secrets open to the sky

Flowers floating in her death-hand
Beauty in her shuttered eye

Skin so wan, her only colour
Streaming from her golden hair

Painted in her concrete chamber
Etched in monochrome despair

She sees the ramparts from her window
Hears the pennants in the breeze

Tears fall upon her pillow
Sparrows listen from the trees

The halting words of her recital
Reach across the city scene

And somewhere in another tower
Sounds the echo of her dream

Above the distant hum of traffic
She smoothes the cover of her cot

And yields her body to the river
Carried down to Camelot