This poem is a part of the Spec the Halls contest for speculative winter holiday-themed fiction, artwork, and poetry. You may find descriptions of and links to other entries at http://www.aswiebe.com/specthehalls.html

For Arthur

       Faeries have glided ice over pines
I myself have brought down stars for boughs
You have not returned
and when I think
                 you never will

              old Bedevere wakes
              beard in his nog
              whispers ‘yet’