Metal clanking in ringing memories,

the way they used to be filled.

They now stand still, waiting by the castle doors

to greet the visitors soundlessly, with words only heard

by their past-time friends.

Mere shells against the stone walls, shining metal,

the gas light glints on their chests.

The one nearest you was a warrior,

the slash of his sword painfully acute.

The man holding a goblet held secrets,

only known by the queen herself.

The suit of armor beside the fireplace was a prince,

sweet to his faithful lover,

scornful toward all others.

The fourth man to the left had sapphire eyes,

as though the whole sky were put into those pupils,

he penetrated people with his gaze.

The suit of armor in the moonlight beneath the window

held a man too wise to contradict,

for he saw into your soul like you read a book,

always knows when the color of your aura changes.

Never gaze for too long at the suit of gold.

its once-held anger may still linger a bit.

The suit that lay farthest from you held a woman,

more beautiful than even God can inspire.

Her ebony hair a sheet of satin,

her skin so soft and warm,

she was stronger than anyone can envision.

These seven suits of armor are like footsteps,

depressions in the ground of time that you can mimic.

Like memories held in a locket,

pressing against ivory skin.

More than just an ancient beauty to behold,

more than such a memory never forgotten,

more than all the colors of the strands of time.

—Feb. 14, 2010