Once upon a time, a black rider came to my door.

Dark were his clothes and silver the helmet

hiding his features, except for his blue eyes.

I followed him, left chaos behind.

I climbed on his dark mount and let the wind blow through my mind.

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The world whirled by, assailing me with scents of

freshly cut grass, laboured fields and grazing cattle.

And Always hot oil and rubber,

combined with the heady scent of warming leather.

A hefty cocktail, leaving me lightheaded.


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The air was fresh,

boring its way through thick layers of clothes to steal my warmth.

But my body was warmed from within.

I lived on hope, rushing forward with the knight

who showed me only his back.


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Towns fell away as we rode, giving way to meadows and woods.

Horses with their newborn foals welcomed us with a grunt.

Cows looked up from their calves and newborn lambs bleated

in the meadows, glimmering in slowly rising veils of morning dew.

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And birds everywhere; ravens and magpies but also birds of prey

hovering above fields in search of their breakfast.

For a few seconds we were part of their world.

We were wild, free and daring.

We were on our way.

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Somewhere along the road, we came upon his friends.

They greeted him warmly,

laughed behing shades and were eager to ride.

On we went, the four of us.

On and on, over roads that rushed faster than rivers below our feet.

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My body followed the firm lines of his back and thighs,

our legs resting against each other in a strange intimacy.

Sometimes my hands would glide around his body.

The wind would stay cold as ever,

but his hand resting briefly on mine

would send a wave of warmth through my body.

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We crossed many forests, huge pines and leafy trees

reluctantly opening their paths for our mounts.

And when the light penetrated their foliage,

golden specks would dance like elves above the ground.

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My eyes feasted on tender greens, on patchworks of canola fields

and steaming brown acres.

Spring was everywhere, in apple tree blossoms

and dandelions speckling meadows with sunny colours.

Thousands of florets danced before my eyes,

fluffy little parachutes on an eager quest for life.

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I was in fairytale country,

a few miles away from Dorothea Viehmann

and her tales about Hansel and Gretel.

Were there wolves in these forests?

Would they wound and kill if they had the chance,

like man showed them for so many years?

I wondered and rode,

and rode and wondered.

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It was late when we arrived at the bridge.

There was the lake, laden with lichen,

waiting for swans to taste its waters.

I thought about the lady of the lake,

of all the secrets she learned from Merlin

before trapping him in a tree.

Nimue, Vivian, Elaine... was this your home?

And which spells would befall me in this strange place,

such a long way from home?

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My rider halted his mount,

his friends did likewise.

We had reached the dwelling where we would stay

for a few spellbinding days...

13:56 Gepost door Paule | Permalink | Commentaren (2) |  Facebook |