Poem: On that cold, dark night
The Great Lion did not fight
As the witch raised her arm
Then the knife came down,
The lion jerked in alarm,
Then he was gone, he had died,
The witch then triumphantly cried.
The trees mourned, surely all was lost,
They had lost what mattered most.
Then the table rumbled,
The earth grumbled,
The Stone Table cracked,
The sun began to rise,
Up stepped a golden figure, the greatest prize.
But surely not, it could not be Him,
He had died, he was dead!
The lion shook his golden mane, then roared,
And no longer did the world mourn.
For there he stood, the great lion, king of all!
No longer did the world’s heart fall.
The world leaped as the lion ran, reinforcements in tow,
Towards the battle he did go.
As he roared once more, the witch stared in shock,
Then her sword dropped to the ground.
As the lion pounced, no longer did she mock,
The king’s head whipped around,
And with a flash of his mighty teeth,
The witch fell to her feet.
Gone was the evil, gone were the bad,
Narnia was free and no longer sad,
Thanks to the great lion, the golden one,
Death and evil he had outdone.
Copyright: 2006 Shayla Vanstone