note to a lady in waiting

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 The white charger’s belly is bloated with hay

The helmet helm’s rusted quite shut

The tack room door hinges are tearing away

The leather’s un oiled and dry

The lance is still good It’s bracing the fence

but I traded the sword for a pen

I’m presently seeking a page

So if you’re still waiting and anticipating

A Lochinvar ending of sorts

I’ll purchase wild oats for the horse

I recall how to sow them of course

With hardly a shred of remorse

Reviews

[J]

Awk Donald, thank you for reposting this. One of my very favorites. I need to rebuild my library with your clever sweetness . . . and some which bear my name, as well. I miss you, luv. How's the job going? I miss your pen and wit.

Love,
me

[Narnie]

This is one of my favourites of yours. A respectful nod and a business like voice as you tease us in the rhyme. Love it.