The knight errant.

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He comes knocking at my door. Doesn’t he know ivory towers have limited access? He tries to scale the walls, but they’re too high for him and he’s not as young as he was. I feel bad and invite him in for coffee and a chat sitting opposite, out of reach, across the coffee table.

He wants me to fall in love with him, doesn’t he know I’m busy here? I have things to do in my ivory tower. Of course I’ll love him from the other side of the table, love that doesn’t divert or cost. I’ll put a band aid on his hurts, even kiss them better, but I avoid his lips – too much trouble this falling in love.

I’m no longer a child that waits starry eyed for a prince, my true prince lives in my heart, his image safe from the corruption of everyday life, (better that way). I don’t want to get involved with this knight, I want to retain my focus.

How childlike he seems pleading for love and I am a mother, my heart is touched, but better not to start something you’ll never finish. It’s not fair to tempt, to lead on, he wants the real thing and I can’t give him that.

Knight like I am married to my quest. I have no present interest in “being in love”, to give love, yes, to be loved, yes, but not to fall “in love” again. Surely he must understand. I’ll make it clear…

And so he saddles up his horse and goes looking for another princess, another tower. My offers of friendship, of future admittance ringing in his ears as he rides off into the sunset. He will return now and then when nearby on his journeying, drink a cup of coffee, probe to see if things have changed, if I might open the door to that inner chamber of my heart. My offers of alliance are not what he seeks, this wayward knight. I wish I could give more but know it wouldn’t work. Though I live in an ivory tower I’m not in distress, I don’t await a rescuer for he lies already in my heart. I was rescued long ago. Together we watch as he rides away a prayer for him upon my lips.

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