No Knight

She is an angel in all perception,

with black hearts painted upon rosy cheeks.

A glance could raise bitter resurrection;

A heroine among the weary meeks.

Now enraptured and caught in Spider's Silk.

So charmed daily in sweet brevity.

Her alabaster skin like Maidens Milk,

To glance her is to spur longevity.

But I know not, he would be El Señor

Could be a knight or king more true than most.

And I am left to claim the Dragon's Ohr,

To swallow the bitter drink in dose.

I am no knight, She is no angel, just,

Human. And to act like one is a must.