Child's Play: The Knight And The Damsel Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

The damsel was exiled far away
In a tall cider abode that smelt of autumnal frays
She tousled her hair in front of an immense vanity
And painted the walls with her palette of clarity.

In a mid-summer night’s rendezvous
She walked down the mired gardens with a parasol, cold and blue
She dangled her feet upon the restive lake
As the night was lurching endlessly, out of time’s sake.

”What are you doing here, fine knight? ” She pried.
”Marveling at the lake, dear madam.” He cried.
The foliages careened to the direction of the bluster,
The damsel saw that the knight was bleeding under the night of somber.

The lady scintillated as she went closer to the knight,
”Dear lad, you are bleeding! Spare thy wretched night.
Go to your home, and treat your wounds so they may heal!
For you are iron-clad in the night’s tremendous squeal! ”

”I’ve not a home, nor a place to stay.
And that is why I let myself bleed as the night turns to day.”
The knight had confessed and the damsel sighed in poignancy
”Come to my castle, dear knight, there we shall treat your malady.”

The knight limped as he carried his fumbling sword
That slept in a scabbard that sojourned by his side, silent in discord -
The damsel flourished, in silken things and emboldened porcelain
That swathed her skin as she pursed her lips with the scent of the terrain.

She whistled a song and in this mad penchant,
The knight found himself singing too, with the damsel’s alluring chant.
The sultry haze was fazed in the forest, the knight came to a halting startle
As he said fervently, “What a tall, luxurious castle, sweet and fair damsel! ”

He hesitated at first, as he removed his greaves
Mad tremors swept him, as his blood rushed through his sleeve
”Madam, I must go. This place is not for me!
For look, you see, I am withering away in this grotesquerie.”

The damsel smiled and drank a cup of tea
From her garish home that smelt of mildew and lilies
”Dear knight, I’ve not any care about what has marred you
Come with a plenitude of wounds, still the gods will vie for you! ”

The knight was dumbfounded in this highfaluting grace
It’s as if faced with a day that relishes in the sun’s feverish rays.
”Thank you, my dear damsel, how can I ever repay you? ” The knight said.
”When you’ve healed completely, this I ask of you.” The damsel bled.

The knight surveyed the walls, and there were caricatures
Even little photographs of the tapestries and pastures.
”You made all of this? ” The knight cobwebbed into wonder.
”Yes, dear knight.” The damsel fixed her eyes upon the knight, lost and flustered.

The night had coiled into morning, and the pendulum
That stood at the cynosure of the damsel’s room
Crooned. “Perhaps it is time to go, dearest damsel.”
The damsel smiled and said, “Dear knight, I wish you well.”

The knight donned his greaves and looked at the damsel
In a much sterner gaze and exuberant smile, the knight quells
The damsel’s chagrin as she was atop the castle.
Perhaps this not ends, the fable of the knight and the damsel.