| 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.