they furrowed brow
tells stories not spoken
but hangs heavy as your cloak
hanging from slumping shoulders
war worn, tired from bloody battle
of clashing blades, slashing swords,
yet holding forth a stalwart posture
of honor while bent from battle
on this night-come
my knight to maiden's chambers
tower high away from the clamor
to the midnight hour of magic moments
Lay thy bloodied beaten head
upon the softness of my bed
and lay in peace 'til the cock doth crow
then off to battle thou must go
White Knight honor to uphold
bravely striding before the fold
leading your company to victory
and bestow your world with fealty...
bentfeather
