I remember.

Memory is a monster. A truly scary one at times.

I remember

The times of gem studded

Gold-trimmed

Silver stitched

Lace covered

Past.

I remember

The rustle of gowns

The velvets of cloaks

The smell of leather

And faint perfumes

Full of English lavender.

I remember

The whispers

The glances

And hushed voices

The faint thoughts

In galleries.

I remember

The kings who loved

And queens who hated

And courtiers who'd kill

To rise higher

Before their masters.

I remember

The blood and gold

Of the Tudors

And heathery greens

Against crispy white

Of the Stuarts.

I remember

The eyes that laughed

The tears unshed,

The hearts broken

And betrayed

By the beloved hands.

I remember

So much,

But most of all-

The golden glance

Of Apollo,

In the darkening skies.

I remember

His laugh

As he aimed

For the walls of Troy-

His eyes were blue

As the sapphires then.

I remember

His gold and fire,

Much brighter

That that of

The Tudors

Years after.

I remember

So much

That it makes me

Wonder

Whether I'm stuck there,

Or imagining it.

But the golden glance

Of Apollo

Still follows me.

Amidst Tudor roses

And Stuart lace

Of the past.

And it slowly becomes

The future.