Maiden's Knight

"Rise, fair maiden," he whispered ever softly,
clad proudly in silver armor glistening beneath the light,
waiting patiently bent heavily to his knees,
head bowed low in utter respect to the beauty of the night.
Her lashes did part so lusciously, fluttering petals
of shadow with pupils of bright enchanted gold,
a treasure to be admired and never forgotten
as the knight believed there was more to be told.
How he longed to describe her, an impossibility,
to share with the blossomed lotus a compliment to her worth,
oh, but her beauty and gentle heart found no match
as had been the defined truth since eve of her birth.
One small foot and then another she stepped
into weightless slippers, a crimson rush of warmth exposed,
blushing below the gaze of the man who stared guiltily,
aware his senses failed in Her Majesty's presence uncontrolled.
He followed protectively behind through layers of curtains
sewn with locks of white Elven hair timeless,
keeping close prepared to shed blood until he die
for the Princess to whom he remained a nameless.
Upon reaching His Highness's throne she curtsied,
the kind frame of a slender body revealed attractively,
and as she rose the knight's heart chased
wondering how anyone in existence could be so lovely.
Alas, his chest ached in recognizing the Prince,
a coward of a man mocked by his fears,
a pathetic fool unknowing of love and loyalty
basing charge to the reigning of few years.
He knew but riches and cared for only these;
diamonds, rubies, emeralds, pleasing to the eye,
noticing not the true gem standing shyly and sweet,
lost in thought, knowing this unfairness she could not defy.
At last the King's voice called addressing those awaiting
expressing war had been claimed and battle would begin,
hearing sorrowfully the gasps and pleadings
of separation, fright, and deep hopelessness to win.
The knight merely looked away imagining his fate,
a determination, strength, and courage lingering inside
gleaming in the rough skin of his calm, stern face,
as the Princess watched in admiration she foundered to hide.
He marched ahead certain of what must be done,
bowing in blessing of the King, promising to give his life
for kingdom, for goodness of man, woman, and child,
no matter the circumstance, no matter the strife.
The King's palm caressed his hair, and the knight stood
shoulders broad, full of purpose, eagerness, a will
to stand before the blade threatening the home of his people,
and the one woman who had power to bring his world still.
A final gaze he spared wearily before turning,
his eyes quietly embracing Her Majesty's entirety in complete adoration-
passionately, fondly, confessing this burning secret wordlessly,
piercing her soul with affection as he took to no hesitation.
Alas, the trumpets of battle sounded, and he bowed once more
to the pretty, young lass who forever enlightened his dreams,
an anger dwelling in his mind for the reckless fiend waving
near her having drawn from the fight through his common schemes.
The knight scowled at the spineless, ruthless Prince,
certain with all integrity this brute had never deserved
the wondrous delight of the Lady's joy and opinion
nor her fragile touch and eternal friendship reserved.
As his eyes released hold of the maiden's parted lips,
the warrior strode squarely in suit of the others,
huge hands reaching for the iron hilt of a magnificent sword
and shield to becomes his weapons and last brothers.
The door to the castle opened ajar at their arrival
as they passed in single order to a final destiny,
hushed, heavy, listening regretfully to the tears of those behind
falling in sunken grief aware of death's inevitability.
The knight twirled the point of his saber in the rain,
pressing back on armored heels equipped to collide
with the bulky force rushing in, an overwhelming scene,
yet the image of a maiden kept him from drowning in the tide.
And so he fought alongside many brave men,
iron and steel flashing sparks beneath cruel, darkened clouds
a lightening awe striking the spirits attending above

concentrating through steamy mist as he vanished between the crowds.

Days passed, and when silence came, a red sun parted the storm's temperament,

a sign of dawn's awakening shining a pitiful ray across bodies aching and torn,

a gruesome display of war as the folk inside emerged shaking,

hearts shattering at the sight of so many bleeding and worn.

The King inspected the field from in front the marble gate's entrance,

eyes dry and sore knowing he had sent his men to death's realm

without luck of return or chance of well being ahead

as they lay scattered and beaten grasping loosely blade and helm.

A day of victory and loss, the Highness nodded sympathetically,

and while women crouched frozen over trembling infants in mourn

the marvelous Princess rushed down the cold, cracking steps,

away from the Prince, her father, and triumph's bellowing horn.

Her pretty eyes searched, a scream tempting her angelic voice

as the color of darkness breached the peace she had long believed

in the safety of a man who had wholeheartedly sworn his allegiance,

rescuing her from royalty's loneliness and the nightmares she received.

Then she saw, horrified, catching a breath, the knight sprawled numbly,

laying half into the earth, lifeless, hip pierced by a monstrous ax through,

the hilt of his gray sword resting on top a soiled palm,

staring blindly into the oblivion above, body broken, veins blue.

“Oh, my knight,” she wept, kneeling beside the hulking martyr,

lifting his head earnestly to her shivering bosom without words to be said,

recalling the days his gentle eyes and compassionate hold had been true comfort

as she closed them lightly now, pressing soft lips to his forehead.