The Knight of Air.
"On, on" you cry, with the wind beneath your wings.
Take up your sword, but who will survive my test of truth?" Do you, Knight, take no prisoners? No, Knight, it is you who stands up for the weak.
The light glints of your sword, a cold, clear light.
Cold are your eyes to those you do not like, yet, can be as soft, gentle as a summer's breeze to those you love.
Your laughter floats upon the air, like musical notes, crystal clear.
Wound, you can, with words, sharp as cut glass.
You conquer my mind, you take my heart, Knight of Swords.
The Knight of Fire.
"Will you not put a coat on and a sensible heel, You'll freeze and never walk with an even keel.
That short skirt! Your kidneys will catch a chill And you'll be off work through your being ill".
"Stop your fussing, will you, I am fine can't you see The bus is due and Dave is waiting for me".
She sped out the door, a living flame, "Oh mum, shut up! and don't up sit up for me".
Joan sighed, closed the door, silence reigned again.
The hall mirror reflected her, time had been kind.
Auburn hair streaked with wiry steel and 'crows feet' or "please! more a laughter line".
And in her mind's eye she went back to a time Of 'Biba', of mini's and eyeliner black, King's Road and Twiggy, McGowan ultra thin Of Jagger and Faithfull, in their swinging prime.
"Will you not put a coat on and a sensible heel, You'll freeze and never walk with an even keel That short skirt! Your kidneys will catch a chill And you'll be off work through your being ill".
"Stop your fussing, will you, I am fine can't you see The bus is due and Paul is waiting for me".
She sped out the door, a living flame, "Oh mum, shut up! and don't sit up for me".
Joan smiled, saw that they were the same Mother and daughter both, a living flame.
Joan turned to her laptop, the chatroom marked And as an avatar, a beauty, youth regained.
She picked up her wine glass and took a sip She could be who she wanted, be young and hip, could flirt all night with her slippers on, heart content by her own fire's light.
Copyright Louise Marie Green.
"On, on" you cry, with the wind beneath your wings.
Take up your sword, but who will survive my test of truth?" Do you, Knight, take no prisoners? No, Knight, it is you who stands up for the weak.
The light glints of your sword, a cold, clear light.
Cold are your eyes to those you do not like, yet, can be as soft, gentle as a summer's breeze to those you love.
Your laughter floats upon the air, like musical notes, crystal clear.
Wound, you can, with words, sharp as cut glass.
You conquer my mind, you take my heart, Knight of Swords.
The Knight of Fire.
"Will you not put a coat on and a sensible heel, You'll freeze and never walk with an even keel.
That short skirt! Your kidneys will catch a chill And you'll be off work through your being ill".
"Stop your fussing, will you, I am fine can't you see The bus is due and Dave is waiting for me".
She sped out the door, a living flame, "Oh mum, shut up! and don't up sit up for me".
Joan sighed, closed the door, silence reigned again.
The hall mirror reflected her, time had been kind.
Auburn hair streaked with wiry steel and 'crows feet' or "please! more a laughter line".
And in her mind's eye she went back to a time Of 'Biba', of mini's and eyeliner black, King's Road and Twiggy, McGowan ultra thin Of Jagger and Faithfull, in their swinging prime.
"Will you not put a coat on and a sensible heel, You'll freeze and never walk with an even keel That short skirt! Your kidneys will catch a chill And you'll be off work through your being ill".
"Stop your fussing, will you, I am fine can't you see The bus is due and Paul is waiting for me".
She sped out the door, a living flame, "Oh mum, shut up! and don't sit up for me".
Joan smiled, saw that they were the same Mother and daughter both, a living flame.
Joan turned to her laptop, the chatroom marked And as an avatar, a beauty, youth regained.
She picked up her wine glass and took a sip She could be who she wanted, be young and hip, could flirt all night with her slippers on, heart content by her own fire's light.
Copyright Louise Marie Green.
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