The gutters flowed a moat when he was ten <br />and streetlights showed the haunts of Saracen. <br /> <br /> <br />## The hawk in circles dirges every lark.## <br /> <br />A court in books reigned legions in his teens. <br />He marched in parks, the Lord of Kensal Greens. <br /> <br />##Glib leaves in wind are tongues that speak on bark.## <br /> <br /> At eighteen cloud-curled castle seems no dream <br />and chat of Chaucer bubbles in a stream. <br /> <br />## the oak tree's eaten with a lightning fork.## <br /> <br />The Queen of Clubs at twenty trumps his heart. <br />The realm has fallen; new order's rules need start. <br /> <br />All knights firm hopes set stronger than rock wall. <br />At vespers prayers will rise -for stones will fall..<br /><br />Glenn Bagshaw<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/joey-knight-errant/
