The Round Table
The round table spins,
all is a roulette wheel,
now I am the favored Knight.
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,
her demure down cast mien
a façade, 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 let the world spin on,
for even kings and queens know
that any gambit is just another
uncertain gamble.
This gamming table
goes around,
and just where your feet
touch firm ground
or slip
none may predict.
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