Once, long time ago a Lady of grace and elegance,

her child and spouse in glamorous remembrance.

Chillingham Castle in its prime of residence and tragic,

Lord Grey in spell of love by Mary’s sister Henrietta’s magic.

 

Heartbroken and in despair with baby girl alone,

took her life and child falling from the tower like a stone.

The Castle already haunted by spirits from the dungeon,

crying female voices and rotten smells very pungent.

 

In her beautiful dress she walks the dark corridor,

surging in courteous fate for her husband therefore.

A friend of mine and phenomenon fanatic,

invited me to this Chillingham Castle haunt ecstatic.

 

We arrived at a misty midday, overwhelmed

are those spirits already aware of our intend.

Walking in this majestic place through history,

feeling chased by my own step noise mystery.

 

I dreamed that night to be with Lady Mary,

holding her porcelain face very wary.

Such a sweet and gorgeous virtuous soul,

slowly turning her veins into color coal.

 

Waking up, I feel in love with this beauty

wanted to know all her historic duty.

Warned by my friend of ghost camouflage,

nothing more but an emotional mirage.

 

My mind played all searching possibility,

convinced that my heart will change her debility.

To set her free from the pain of grieve,

giving her soul the deserved peace to receive.

 

In my vain attempt I wrote a little prayer,

that with God one is never alone, sooth sayer.

Stuck that note behind her portrait in gold,

believing that it has consequences bold.

 

Many months later I received a letter by courier,

with golden letters looking superior.

Words of gratitude and faith to see,

“I will wait for you my love,

                                                      Lady B”