Sir Lancelot (Poem)

SIR LANCELOT

So stoutly he sits - As straight as a rod
High up on his white steed,
Covered in silver armor that shines
Like a diamond ring in the sun’s bright light.

How proud he looks - Ready to race off to war.
He looks to Guenevere - She nods her head in satisfaction.
Once again he straightens his neck - He must look the part.
He must be brave, courageous

But wait! - If you listen carefully,
You’ll hear his tin suit clatter.
For underneath is a man uncertain
Like a child awaiting punishment - Lancelot is unsure.

He has heard of this horrible thing called war.
He has heard of the deaths.
Everyone has told him - He is the Lord?s soldier - So he cannot die.
But, how can he be sure? 
How can he be sure that He’ll return alive?  Or at all?

Yes, stoutly he sits - Looking brave and bold
But inside his shining armor,
Sir Lancelot - The brave -
is scared!

Copyright © 2001, all rights reserved