Parsifal by Yvonne Aburrow
The mists unfurled and melted in the sun;
dew-starred cobwebs hung on every hedge,
and late roses gave their perfume to the air
when I began my journey.
Little enough I knew of the world,
only the forest and the fields round about.
Knights I had never seen - were they demons or angels?
They dazzled me with their bright armour.
The trees turning from green to gold, drifting
into autumn, arched over me, a cathedral
ever changing, making patterns of light.
Farewell to innocence.
I dream of the forest sometimes -
the beech mast crunching underfoot,
the wild boar snuffling for acorns,
my mother's house.