Milady please, your scarf to wear, on this my fated day.
With it wound tight around my waist, I’ll be no warrior’s prey,
For thou art more than luck for me, thou art my just reward,
Should I but live through this today, to fin’ly sheath my sword.
Oh lady, sit thee fast and still, that eyes that drink thee in
Might quench their thirst and fill my heart, and give me hope to win.
The armor and the fragile shield do but what they can do,
But naught protects like hopes and dreams of spending life with you.
This gladiator that I be, the price that’s on my head;
The looks from always fearful eyes, that wish to see me dead.
Five years I’ve fought, now just today, then freedom's won at last,
Arenas gone to n’er be seen, forgotten in my past.
So close your eyes my lady fair, watch not while blood is spilled,
For with the lifting of a thumb, our destiny’s fulfilled.
Mind not the cheering nor the screams, but listen for my voice,
And if my gentle words be heard, then fate has made its choice.
Gold trophy winner
Adding your comment:
Sheila
[[jealous]]
