The Lion's Heart

Wayne Cook
©2007

You majesty, she said with hands in worship's respect,
I would my people and my honor protect,
Grant me this day one magnificent wish,
Send me out tonight with a Lion's heart my gift.

The king was struck with the young girl's plea,
No one else had petitioned him for such strange leave,
People had begged for favors, for pardon, for gold,
They had bartered and traded and left him cold.

Her eyes were as soft as they were direct,
His royal heart warmed; he could feel no threat,
He wondered and pondered this strange request,
And still his eye would yield to grant her quest.

He cleared his throat, like kings are wont,
Already he'd decided he would not this damsel taunt,
My young one, he said, as he stood to his feet,
My young one, what is the quest you seek?

She answered with a riddle, and true it rang,
The hall echoed with it's portent, implication, and tang
Sharp the word, sharp the intent, sharp now the eyes,
Sharp the finger that accused the evil stye.

He who keeps the entrance of lust and deceit,
He who winds the heart with vines of defeat,
He who wounds the man with soul in the dust,
He who speaks lies with honey, and breaks the trust.

Strong is the woman who evil loathes,
Strong is the cord that binds her to oath,
Strong is the soul that pursues the quest,
Strong is the Lion's Heart she grasps to her breast