Boudicca’s Kin

Met a woman, an echo from ancient yore,
Boudicca's kin, watchful to the core.
In black she stood, a cloak of history;
A woman of strength, wrapped in mystery.

In her bag, watchful shadows sail,
Guardian familiar, wagging black tail.
A duo in darkness, a dance in the night,
Alert to threats, yet bathed in soft light.

Kind smile, a spell, cast without heed,
Foretelling meetings, as shadows recede.
Morning's gray cloak wraps her silhouette,
A promise of friendships; not to forget.

I'll cross paths again with this woman of lore,
With the guardian she carefully bore.
In the dance of shadows, our stories blend,
Boudicca's descendant, warrior, maybe a friend.