A Tudor Court
Chloe Pick
Joan stood in the barren room
Mahogany wood flooring, cherry red tapestry hung
Telling the story of a battle.
The hero is slain, villain holding the sword
Blood drips, cherry red to the battle-ground
A memory from a millennia ago
Placed proudly on the otherwise bare wall,
the sole possession of Joan’s room
A single suggestion of comfort among this court
Where people only wanted to improve their station in life
A poison corrupting her life, bleeding her of hope
Staring out the dew-covered window she watched
As the flowers lazily swayed in the autumnal breeze
An endless labyrinth of cut hedges
Lavender scent wafts around the room
Whispers of the lute drift from the hall below
A haunting melody, coaxing her downstairs
Stirring up a memory, she gazed out to the walled garden surrounding her
In this caged prison, she was trapped
Joan felt as though the key had been thrown away
The old oak tree over the brick wall pulled her towards a memory-
A yearning to return to the past and its joys
She yearned for the days spent shielded from the world, hiding in the woods
How the leaves blew and flowers bloomed
How birdsong had spun a joyous melody
Laughing, free and clinging to every moment
Forever escaping from the life set out for her
It had dragged her to this dreary court
Oh, how she longed to return to those woods
If only she were free to choose a life for herself
Free to choose where to go, where to live and to be finally, truly happy
A knock at the door shook her from such foolish hopes.