Gothic door creaking eerily ajar
leading into the turret, rain falling
on the blue carpet and an owl guarding
the winding stairs - spirit of chivalry,
I let her lead the dark, echoing way
into a high-ceilinged hall of welcome
illumined only by the one candle.
Red-robed figure seated before the fire
and all shadowy heads turning our way.
Red apple from the pocket of the robe
the flashing of silver and then two halves.
The planet of each apple holds a star.