A Night In, Shining Armour
David Barber
It appeared in the Throne Room apparently,
announced by unseen choirs and blinding light,
and they say there was the purest scent too,
of goodness and innocence, like the smells
of childhood or clean linen perhaps,
and all so beautiful that grown knights cried.
It was gone by the time that I arrived,
but the King was there, and Lancelot,
and other knights you will have heard of,
and we knelt and swore upon our swords
to seek for it. Yes. That was a fine moment.
In the end, it was some chap called Percival.
My own quest never came to very much,
a hint of something too great for words
that’s lost as we grow old,
a dragon here, a fair maiden there,
so many paths, so many enchanted forests,
at least, they seemed enchanted once.
History does not record the tales
of those still waiting for their hour to come,
ignorant that this is our fate.
