The Knight

This is a transformation poem where a worker transforms into his/her instrument

The Knight

Up on his high horse,

he gleams with a radiance

of his preset course.

 

He has known no other

life but that of “sacrifice”.

But in the night he feels

the twinges of another

 

Dream! Dreams

and only that(?)

for he wears the armor

or so it seems.

 

But as the years wear by,

and his sword cleaned so many times,

he finds his pride a lie.

 

And so he rusts,

shine and shimmer,

fade from blood-red lusts

Reviews

[ClareW]

That's Cool
I like how you picked a job from the past and you did a good job with it.