A Black Knight's Tale
The round table spins;
yesterday I was the least,
children made sport of me,
scrawny curs snapped at my heels.
The King's favor is fickle.
The Queen shades her eyes,
a demurely cast down mien
a veil beneath which
simmers a flame we both have ignited.
Today I ride ahead of the throng,
my banner tall and straight.
Tomorrow is uncertain
the table will turn again.
For what can be, may not happen,
and what may happen never be,
better to turn the table
take the Queen by stealth,
let the world spin on.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
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