I sit here and write,
about my knight.
In my sweet invisible ink.
As I think,
about my dazzling knight,
my ink forms words,
and those words form sights.
I gaze at the sights,
as the creep along my page.
I watch as my knight,
slowly walks his horse,
in the night,
through the course,
no need to force.
He slowly turns his dazzling face,
and stabs a dragon with his mace.
I slowly gaze in fears,
As he tucks a loose strand,
ever so slowly,
behind my ear.
He softens his gaze,
and lowers his mace.
Then he gazes at my face,
and I gaze right back.
But the ink turned clear again,
I ever so slowly,
lowered my pen,
and my eyes began to tear.