• Rachael Waldburger

Charlie the White Knight

#poem #poetry #knight



Charlie the White Knight,

out riding one bright night,

to make his final stand,

cried, “Hey Diddle Diddle”,

his thumbs all a-twiddle,

a poem on his hand.

He spun like a beetle

the black compass needle,

and raised his shining lance,

to the tics and the tocs

of the two dueling clocks,

locked in their infinite dance.

Then down came the rain

on the wide open plain,

cutting like daggers of steel,

for to battle alone

armed with only a poem,

is a pain even words cannot heal.

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