Upon the farthest bank of legend’s secret lake,
At the very edge of a summer day
The last long corridors of light retract.
Bequeathing dusk his brief dominion
Over dreams and magic quests,
And there, upon the mind’s most distant shore
The ephemeral figure of an almost forgotten boy
Stood waiting for Excalibur to rise.
© James Rainsford 2011
Posted to Jingle Poetry's Pot Luck on Monday 30th May. Your views are very welcome. Please click on the comments tab below to have you say.