Between two trees
Twisted and riven
By their ancient years
And reaching up their splintered limbs
To a sky of somber fire,
A girl
Stood
Quietly.

Her colorless face,
Paler than ivory,
Showed only a dim regret
And amazement.

She regarded the slim bouquet of roses,
Burning red against the cold barren ground,
And thought:
He remembers me.
He will not let me go,
Though I can no longer lie
In his arms.
How I long to be with him!Yet I will always be
Where we have been
For as long as
He remembers me.

A maid, paler than ivory, wandered
Through the cold barren land, seeking a place
To rest. There was no place, and she pondered
Shifting mental flickers, only one face
Clear. It was not her face ---"Farewell," he said,
"I Love you. I will remember you. I ---"
The maid stops in surprise --- on the ground, red.
Burning red red roses --- he has been by!
She could go no further, her feet as lead.
This was her place, her home --- here she could rest.
"He remembers me. I still live, though dead,
In his heart. I loved you, and still do, best."

Under the roses was a plaque --- "It's me,
My name. Who am I?" Annabelle Lee.

poem copyright Vanora Hagen 1998

image copyright Vanora Hagen 1996

Shambleau
image copyright Vanora Hagen 2003
story copyright C. L. Moore 1933

What a Stud!
(with apologies to Mark Rogers, originator of "Samurai Cat")
image copyright Vanora Hagen 2003

So It Is An Elvish Blade, too...
copyright Vanora Hagen 1997

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Installed & started March 29, 2001.