A poetess were she to be
...And if she had a quill
She'd write her verse of fantasy
...Of romance, flair and frill
Too much ado since days of yore
...Yet turrets' doors still ope
For gallantry just as before
...Entreat romance with hope
That o'er the castle moat might prance
...A white knight and his steed
Fair maiden's hand in lovers' dance
...A tryste henceforth decreed
She is a poetess perhaps
...Alas without her quill
Although she knows of time's elapse
...Her muse enwraps her still.