| On Errant Days by Michael H. Hanson On errant days she whispers pleas and begs for fortune's sweet bequest yet hears, but silence, 'pon her knees and loneliness within her breast. On errant days she ponders fate and all the wonders she's denied and curses history's estate whose promises are gilded lies. On errant days she dreams of knights most dashing, resolute, and brave who storm the castle of her frights and mounted spirit her away. One errant day her lot will shine and on that day I'll make her mine. |