A Winter’s Rest
and aspired himself
to some day sit at the round table
he dreamed of slaying
dragons, defending castles
and riding with fellow knights in battle
he felt determined and
divinely called
committing himself to train
with passion and devotion
very early on, his eye
and heart found a fair maiden
to share his dream and live the adventure
it was Spring
and they walked in blooming meadows
fertile fields with little bairns following
with just a brief passing of
time
knighthood was bestowed
- some would argue too soon –
and before the young knight
could blink
he found himself in the heat of battle
while the fair maiden built
a home
and raised their children
it was Summer
the battles had been long, incessant
the knight, though battered
and scarred
remained resilient
the gleam still in his eye,
the fire still burning
while a faint hint of fatigue apparent
the bairns grew and wandered
far from home
the fair maiden wearied and simply drifted
away
oblivious to this dissolution,
he soldiered on
under a sweltering summer sun
bound in allegiance to his lord
it wasn’t actually denial,
he sensed the changes
but the fog of battle blinded him to the
severity
it was Autumn
the harvest gone, fields barren, and trees
bare
awareness slowly rising at
the toll of the warfare
while assaulting the enemy’s gates
the knight had lost the home front
battered and worn, kneeling
at his lord’s tent
he laid his sword and armor down
and stepped away from the fray
it was Winter
through a stillness bourn by a chilled wind
walking towards the exhausted
knight
a princess of many years but still radiant
one who also had weathered
many battles
yet still carrying a flame of hope
she took his hand, embraced
him, and said,
“Come be my companion, be my
love.
Come be mine in every way, body, soul, and
spirit.
It is Winter, my love.
Come walk with me, and rest.”
-
mark d. cooke, 12-7-24
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