• a knight errant
• stands in the pouring rain
• his armor a heavy scavenged coat
• fingerless gloves for gauntlets
• helmet made of bandana and beanie

//

• no sword hangs at his side
• he is done, tired, of fighting
• of war
• against the elements, against the rulers, against the burning, consuming fight in his own soul
• time moves
• and he doesn’t

//

• people, the normal ones, can tell he is a relic
• they don’t even look at him as something lesser
• they don’t even look at him

//

• the one that does
• the knight errant stops
• gestures to his cardboard bed
• and asks for a little change

//

• perhaps in another era
• the kid would have made a fine warrior
• but the time of fighting is over
• they have lost

//

• in the kids own heart blazes a sympathetic flame, exacerbated by contrast of the cold wind
• he is always stopped by these knight errants
• they can tell, subconsciously.