Never Me
Deborah Mekemson
From the highest tower window,
I see a silver knight
on an ivory mount,
riding across a lush hillside.
Rose petals flying
and pollen filling the air,
he steers his ride
towards me.
I wave to catch his eye
and hang a slender leg
over the window's edge.
Come for me,
my handsome knight, I cry.
He stops
on the tender grass below,
and lifts his head high
removing his mask.
He is that fine man
I often dream of.
His hand reaches upward,
and I try to meet it.
But I come up empty.
A girl
at a lower window
beat me to it.
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