Who Roams These Halls Poem by Denzil Straight

Who roams the halls of
my keep, in the darkness?
She passes by a window
and I see.
A delicate flower illumed
by the moon.
She knows not that I
follow her on her journey.
She pauses at a door,
reaching out,
she touches the panels
there.
Gently she opens the
door with nary a sound
(I must oil the hinges,
I know this door) .
Softly she enters the
room and casts about.
She spies what she is
searching for.
Her Knight, who lays
there in fretful
slumber, tossing to and
fro.
Softly, gently she slips
beneath the covers there.
And gently suckles her
Knight.
Slowly she slips her
arm under his head
to cradle him there throu
out the nite.