Day 23 of 30 Days of Poetry

This well-trod path, how well is known
What lies beyond its every turn.
How small it feels to legs age-grown,
When once the distance caused concern.

In days of youth it carried knights
To boldly rescue maidens fair
And hosted bright-imagined flights
That thrilled the children playing there.

And yet this world of fun and play
All lay within restricted bounds:
Stout ramparts circled, tall and grey,
To seal the limits of the grounds.

The gate stayed barred although I'd strain,
Pulled by its enigmatic thrall,
The burning question in my brain:
What marvels lay outside the wall?