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Late


Late
by Steven Wittenberg Gordon

The knight kicked in the door to the tower’s uppermost
chamber.  Within, a lady stood with her back
to him.  The knight bowed low his head and said,

“My lady, I have traversed many hostile lands,
endured terrible trials, and have slain the dragon of
this castle in a relentless quest to rescue you.”

“You’re a little late,” she said, as she turned to reveal
the face of an old crone.  “My youth is gone.”

“As is mine,” said the knight, removing his helm to expose
the lined and weathered face of an old man.


* * *

The poet, author, and gentleman songster, Steven Wittenberg Gordon, MD, resides in Kansas with his human family and a poorly trained Airedale terrier. He maintains a part-time medical practice and is the editor of Songs of Eretz E-zine & Poetry Review. Visit him at www.eretzsongs.blogspot.com.

What advice do you have for other fantasy writers? Follow Heinlein's Rules.

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