The White Knight On Lilla Strömgatan II
Steady breath, and memory clears –a narrow strip of polished light
over hard steel ground
They’re back again:
Sune & Camilla –
he blazing in white,
black fringe cutting across fire-bright eyes,
she sharp as a nerve, cat-quick,
words like sparks, stare like a welder’s torch
Autumn into winter,
arrival like a ritual the city kept rehearsing
Evenings with Handel and Tchaikovsky –
and everyone in the room felt it:
youth turned all the way up,
brilliance with an edge too fierce to hold.
Then the return:
their house, their kingdom,
two cats prowling like spirits,
rooms humming with wild potential
too pure to survive ordinary time
The story tightened –
castle to wreck,
glow to sleepless hunger;
and when the princess walked out
the knight stayed behind
in the cracked light and cold rooms
of a dream that burned too fast
Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin
Written on 2025-11-02 at 14:56
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