[Old Sarge]

The respite done,
a waning sun
must reach the gate before
the closing gun,

Purpose drives me,
twilight guides me
with lanterns along
the citadel's road.

The streets and lanes
are quiet, until
the hoofbeats stir
the folk from sills
and doorways to see,
my steed and me,
forelocks tugged in silent greet,
a gesture made, no less sweet,

Dusted, encrusted,
armor and bloodshed,
the gate is nigh,
to bath, to board,
to feast, to sigh,
to greet, and meet,
and see the stars from your tower
once again.

[Soaring Feather]

Alas, fair knight
the night is bright
and your Lady is burdened
with duties of court
sign this- read that
the Lord Mayor is fat
as a rat
Her Ladyship tires
the hour is late
the guards are asleep
guarding the gate
come gather me close
to thy breast
chambers are calling
sleep comes soon
a kiss on thy brow
a bow to the night
star light magic
plays now
we watch in repose
the close of the hour
in the Ivory Tower.

Good night sweet Knight.
Touch the Rose...