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| DWINDLING KNIGHT Life loomed large in childhood, an acre, easily a mile, the apple tree, a spectacle of gigantic dimensions, germinating fruit the size of melons amid grass and wildflowers higher than a house and alive with as much mystery as the imagination allowed, infested with long legged creatures and flying predators, confronted by a brave soldier, possessing stout heartiness, armed with broken branch sword, trash lid shield and brown bagged helmet gear precisely slit for covert surveillance against an enemy constantly plotting to overthrow the king, to rule the kingdom, were it not for the worthy defender daily engaging danger to insure security and safe passage for those nesting within the domain, though the threat diminished with passing years as did the proportions to a mediocre backyard, displaying a frail fruit tree in grass no taller than ankle height with no visible reminders of intense conflicts. The enemy had disappeared, deployed, no doubt, to younger battlefields, accompanied by the imagination now desperately clinging to creative output to preserve a degree of youthful enthusiasm for an aging warrior. |
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