The White Lady Poem by Sandra Kavanagh Josefsson

She roams along the pathways to the tower.
You see her ghost in the snows of Winter
and in Aprils showers.
Her look is so forlorn and sad.
I wonder what sorrow she has had.

Her White dress caresses the icy stones.
The coldness puts a chill in your bones.
She wears a pendant with the letter B.
Is it Anne Boleyn I see.

This poor lady that lies were told against.
So Henry could get himself a new wife.
It did not work out the way that he wanted.
New wife gone and he is haunted.

But your only daughter ma'am.
She became Englands greatest Queen.
With her fiery red hair and alabaster skin.
She is the only one who is remembered and seen.

Not Edward or Bloody Mary as she was called.
But your little daughter Elizabeth Rex.
So you can hold your head up high my Queen.
You have done your duty and paid the highest price,
your life.

Rest now my dear lady in your grave.
The one without any headstone to name your brave,
actions and all you did.
Sleep well and remember who you put on the throne.
The Virgin Queen, the one who came from your blood and bones.

Verse: Sandra Kavanagh (c) .