My Favorite Windmill

Dearest dulcet Dulcinea
I’ve come for you again
to win the hand that pushes back
the smile seen now and then

I’m no Don Juan Quixote
but I’m as crazy as the best
I tilt at you with but my tongue
let language do the rest

Giants are no match for me
who wields a blade so true
that phantoms fall before its fangs
all mirages save for you

The world will keep on spinning
while blades come to a halt
though rust just sharpens beauty
repetition of gestalt

This rhyme is without reason
a damsel sans distress
for all the words in all the world
illusions can’t impress


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