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Dwindling Knight and other Poetry by Michael Keshigian
DWINDLING KNIGHT
Life loomed large in childhood,
an acre, easily a mile,
the apple tree,
a spectacle of gigantic dimensions,
germinating fruit the size of melons
amid grass and wildflowers
higher than a house
and alive with as much mystery
as the imagination allowed,
infested with long legged creatures
and flying predators,
confronted by a brave soldier,
possessing stout heartiness,
armed with broken branch sword,
trash lid shield and brown bagged helmet gear
precisely slit for covert surveillance
against an enemy constantly plotting
to overthrow the king, to rule the kingdom,
were it not for the worthy defender
daily engaging danger to insure security
and safe passage for those nesting
within the domain,
though the threat diminished with passing years
as did the proportions
to a mediocre backyard,
displaying a frail fruit tree
in grass no taller than ankle height
with no visible reminders of intense conflicts.
The enemy had disappeared,
deployed, no doubt, to younger battlefields,
accompanied by the imagination
now desperately clinging to creative output
to preserve a degree of youthful enthusiasm
for an aging warrior.