Oh, the lady dreams,
But of fantasy and stories.
Of star chokers and grablestories,
Tickling her knight with a feather.
The moat full of posies,
That tickle her tosies.

Now the pounding of her heart,
No, the pounding of the door.
The maiden, hearing the laughter and more,
“Come dawn’s lamp, my knight’s counter,
My fair knight wrote me in dreamland,
By the lamp, and feather in hand.”

©2007, Ron Globe