Sancho Panza and I

Sancho Panza and I astride pawing steed

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“What Giants?” said squire. Hardly agreed.

“Those thou seest there,” I retort acrimoniously,

“Long arms delineated by league. Their reach traverse seas.”

He replied, but I’d set spur to Rocinante.

“Look your worship…” The rest lost in a breeze.

Heedless of cries. I hastened at speed.

Buckler held high, lance at rest, grip trembling.

Fullest gallop we crest. Briareusic limbs unfurl, swing.

“Fly cowards! Ye vile beings must reckon with me!”

Couch pillar and crash. Lance goes to pieces.

Rider/horse, tumble forth, cry “Forgive me Dulcinea!”

My heart I’d commended, spread over the plain.

Sancho hastens to assist as fast as he can.

Unable to move, shocked, I look up from the grass.

My spoils I see, the silhouette of an ass.