Bayard

Troubadours of former days

sang of magic horse named
Bayard that could change his size

according to its rider, 

making room for three or more,

great heroic beast, could understand

the speech of man.

The Bayard I met yesterday,

more affable than otherworldly,

other men at table making room

quite chivalrously for the

unknown woman laughing at their

inside jokes as friend beside

explained them. It's not a common
name, this Bayard business.
Did his mother read French poetry?
The next time that I see him
I must ask.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2013