Although I'm fascinated by our early history, the Anglo Saxons and Celts, I've also been reading about Henry the Eighth and his wives; Queen Elizabeth the First and her relationship with Robert, Lord Dudley. I've enjoyed reading Philippa Gregory's novels in particular about these times.
Obviously, we'll never know exactly what happened between Elizabeth and Dudley, the same as in any true story from any period, since the plot belongs to those who take part in it, but here's the poem I wrote on how I imagined it might have been...
The Castle crumbles in ruin.
Shadows drift, a Queen,
proud peacocks, fountains,
lovers joined in the rose garden.
Desire lives in the turbulent breeze,
pressed into Kenilworth stone.
Birds carried coded messages,
glide still in the clouded mist
as history haunts thought.
The glitter of sunlight a bright
jewel from an Elizabethan crown?
She loved you Dudley, no other,
and yet you desired only this,
to be King, not the beauty,
soul or soft heart of a woman.
She rests lonely here,
afraid of you, for you;
yearns in half light
for touch's dark shiver,
to live again, as she once dared.