Windmills

Windmills

I've lived my life with men
Who tilt at windmills.
Dreams, falling in the dust
Gloriously.

They suffer pain like medals
Pinned, across their chest.
Spurring them to greater feats
Of valiant ignorance.

I hover in the wings
And guard the pieces
Of their hearts
Like diamonds amid rust.

I love them knowing that
Even when they fail,
They never lose.
Are never lost.

I've lived my life with men
Who tilt at windmills.
And leave the larger picture
To their maiden in the dust.

By Mari Sloan

copyright
3/2010
Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

Poem

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Sloan Avatar
November 24, 2010 at 5:50 AM
Both. :-)
Jurado Avatar
November 23, 2010 at 11:04 PM
Don Quixote definitely... Or The South? or both...?
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