The gutters flowed a moat when he was ten
and streetlights showed the haunts of Saracen.
## The hawk in circles dirges every lark.##
A court in books reigned legions in his teens.
He marched in parks, the Lord of Kensal Greens.
##Glib leaves in wind are tongues that speak on bark.##
At eighteen cloud-curled castle seems no dream
and chat of Chaucer bubbles in a stream.
## the oak tree's eaten with a lightning fork.##
The Queen of Clubs at twenty trumps his heart.
The realm has fallen; new order's rules need start.
All knights firm hopes set stronger than rock wall.
At vespers prayers will rise -for stones will fall..
Glenn Bagshaw
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/joey-knight-errant/
