Chapter 4

By the castle gates
The boy looked back
At the town
Far from his view
But he could very well picture it
Across the blue morning sky
He wished it well as his face turned
Venturing into the palace
He stopped to stare at the pictures
Rich and colorful, virtuous and good
Beautifully crafted
And to each meter of the land
He wandered up the stone steps
As bright as pages
And made his way
Through the heaviest of doors
The knob cold and gold
Unused for a worthful while
His hands warmed it serene
And turned its lock
So as to reveal
What lay behind it