The squeak
of armor, the clank of chain
Herald each
step of my quest.
Dragging my
trophy through the main gate,
Slain at the
kingdom’s behest.
Sound and
smell and sight assail
As I approach
the kingdom’s heart.
Hawkers and
wenches, workers and guards
Vendor’s
stalls, horses and carts
Pay me no
heed in my rusted suit,
Covered in
soot and dirt.
Dented and
scratched, my armor still sound,
Thought its
wear is masking its worth.
The shield on my back, scarred and beaten
From the
countless battles it’s seen,
My sword
hidden in a worn out scabbard,
But its
blade is polished and keen.
I avoid the
knights that stay at court:
That proud
and dignified caste
Whose armor
gleams and scabbards stick
Their
battles far in their past.
My eyes flit
to the walls of the keep,
Within are
ladies both noble and fair,
I cast down
my gaze and still my heart,
To face them
I’m unprepared.
I struggle
my way to the top of the wall.
My trophy
slows my ascent.
Old wounds
cry out and muscles ache.
My body is
nearly spent.
I fight with
my trophy and fix it in place,
The battlements
taking its weight.
It serves as
a symbol of the kingdom’s strength
Seen by all
that pass through the gate.
I pause for
a moment and take a deep breath,
My quest
done, my burden released.
A feast
shall be held in the great hall tonight,
The kingdom
now safe from this beast.
Yet I turn
not toward the doors of the keep
But the gate
and the realm that’s beyond.
I trudge
down the road, the castle behind
A home where
I don’t yet belong.
A rusty knight
has no place at court
Amongst
nobles in fine array.
Though I’m
beaten and weary and longing for rest,
There are
monsters I still need to slay.
