Dad asked a riddle to me before his departure from this world
which I have been guessing since then.

It’s ever to be solved.
The answer will be unknown.
however I’ve resolved.

A bard ridicules me,
hiding clues in his ballade.
A bard ridicules me,
masking the truth in his facade.

—————

A minstrel leaves own time
following a trace of old verses once mattered
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Flying over straits of the salt water

A minstrel seeks own rhyme
A thorn of a rose: she merrily sings
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
A faint scent of pink colors her wings

A minstrel retrieves own chime
Ripples of a sound echo in the blue yonder
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Until the honey due crescent will she wander

A minstrel is asleep in own time
Breathing out the tail of ancient lyrics
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Her dream is as lucid as acrylic