I’m not sure what was the inspiration for this poem. Probably it was the book I’m reading, Ascendant by Craig Alanson, a fantasy in which there is, of course, a castle.

I have visited several castles over the years in England and France, and not one of them had a notable tower in which one could live. Nor do I remember either a donjon or an oubliette.

I’ve been writing less over the past few holiday weeks and I feel rusty. While I appreciate what I did here, I don’t have a great idea in my head what this poem is about.

I doubt that is something a poet should admit, but I’m admitting it.

All of the parts feel right to me though. I rejected quite a bit of the poem as I edited it. It feels intelligent, that there is meaning there to be found.

The end has meaning for me, that part of my life that is in constant search of being part of a story of significance. The belief that I am a hero and simply in need of a prince.

I suppose that the prince in this case is recognition for my poetry, that right now I am waiting to be discovered rather than climbing out of the dungeon of fear, or the other parts of the castle, all of which are fortified, and taking some risks.

Okay, the poem has meaning.

The photo looks like the stone wall of a castle, but it is actually the stone wall of a train station in England, a station which inspired the train in Harry Potter.

As for the title, I simply can’t help trying to be clever.