There was a lock upon her heart,
her soul held closed by chains twined round.
The walls were built, a solid hold
No trust, no love, just barren ground.
The Knight strode up and drew his sword,
A chivalrous man in word and deed.
He slew the chains and broke the lock
then kissed the ground and planted seed.
The seed took root and sprouted love,
With nurturing, care, and patience showed.
The vines are quite oft painfully pruned
to strenghthen stem and blooms unfold.
Some wrapt firmly within the chain,
the tendrils of the vine seek grasp,
renewing the links with strength untold,
and within the lock has repaired the clasp.
She has not to fear the path of growth,
The beauty of this vine, His flower.
He tends her with great care and patience,
His will, His strength, His love and power.
On this journey the Knight leads the way.
He now owns the vine, her heart, the chain
the locks, the path, and what the future brings.
Guiding all her growth with love through pain.
(written March 2004)