So your armor has gotten a little rusty, and your sword isn't as sharp as it used to be. Your shield is now considered "second hand" because it has received so many hits. Your horse has died, or it has run off, and you don't have the gumption any more to track it down, or your loyalty just won't let you buy new. Your chain mail weighs you down from all the battles you have won, and lost.
But in spite of all that bad news, you still get up every morning, feed the dog, pat him on the head, and do everything you used to do, but with a little less purpose than before. The castle needs a good cleaning, but you allow a little more dust, and nostalgia to fill the grand hall. But all in all, you're still that grand night in shining armor who stopped someone in their tracks once, and showed them how love is supposed to be, but in time changes to where that someone must become a little more sword to lean on, and less a burden to be carried. Yes indeed, that is me, and life must go on, and there are other castles to keep!
Witt
(For Joyce)
