He Met His Match

She whispers to the devil when the darkness is complete,

His rolling laughter booms from the depths,

Keeping him amused is her favourite pastime,

Ignoring the quagmire in which she often steps.

**

She feels the goosebumps rise at his tone,

Unthreatened by one who boast of it all,

Head held high she’ll look him dead in the eye,

Smiling at his scowl, pride before fall.

**

She cheekily loops her arm through his and laughs,

Swinging him around in a dance just for two,

Crazy I know, but it’s how she likes to have fun,

He’s just a bad boy after all, give him his due.

**

He rolls his eyes at her antics,

She’s too cute for him to scold,

Tolerates her disrespect; secretly pleased,

She’s the only one with the nerve to be so bold.

**

She actually instils some magic in his dark shrivelled heart,

Not that he’ll let her know of her success,

If she was to disappear, he’d pine, that is true,

Well aware that this haunting creature is one he’ll bless.

**

Her laughter tinkles off the stone cavern walls,

Bringing a form of music to the downtrodden and scathed,

Those he holds hostage in the depths of his realm,

None of who would ever be so brave.

**

She doesn’t tiptoe within his presence as all others do,

She parries and argues much to his mirth,

She is a warrior woman, a contention to the crown,

A special feminine wile delivered at birth.

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Originally published on Medium