Across the sea
A thousand swords
Forged in the sun
Gather.
Uniform, abstract.
Their silent dance
Mesmerises, and
Avalon ascends
For a moment,
Refracting in
A myth once glimpsed,
Sucked in to a sanctuary
Of destruction.

Sinking back into
Victorian benches,
The wood calms,
And I look back
Towards the town,
While the old soldier
Watches
From his wheelchair.