for guenevere
She lives high atop a moutain, in the land of ash and snow. High up in her tower where she dreams of kings from long ago. She lives with ghosts high above her head, she sleeps with fairies late at night that play under her bed.
I've seen her with wings, and cat ears and scarves; with paint on her hands and holes in her jeans, and once earrings made of stars.
She is a lady of another time living in this modern day, painting pictures of old lands and myths from far away. She dances with vampires and spirts long past when she plays in the graveyard as long as the moonlight will last.