The Little Knight

The kitchen door slams open wide;
The boy flies through to play outside.
His house becomes his castle’s walls;
The distant car horns, clarion calls.
A stick becomes a mighty sword;
The bushes, an invading horde.
He charges with his battle cry,
Defending home, sword brandished high.

He fights assailants one by one;
Beneath the houses sinks the sun.
The sky near dark, marauders downed,
And bush leaves all around the ground,
The vanquished men laid by the tree
Go back to being shrubbery.
He drops his stick, runs in the door;
The castle is his house once more.

Play trains him up for when he’s grown,
Defending family of his own.

-Joshua C Frank

First Published at The Society of Classical Poets

Joshua C. Frank works in the field of statistics and lives in the American Heartland.  His poetry has also been published in The Society of Classical Poets, Snakeskin, The Lyric, Sparks of Calliope, Westward Quarterly, New English Review, Our Day’s Encounter, The Creativity Webzine, Verse Virtual, The Asahi Haikuist Network, and LEAF Journal, and his short fiction has been published in Nanoism and The Creativity Webzine.